


Falling Rain

by lilpumpkingirl



Category: Dragon Age, Dragon Age 2
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-03
Packaged: 2017-11-20 05:59:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 56,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilpumpkingirl/pseuds/lilpumpkingirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A mysterious women is spying on Hawke's group of misfits. More specifically a certain broody elf named Fenris. She holds the old chains that would pull him back to the Imperium & into the nightmare that is Danarius, but she may also hold the keys to his salvation... or Thedas' destruction. Issue is, should he trust her? Or better yet, can he with stakes being so high & her a mage?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Semblance of Liberty

\- 1 -

~Semblance of Liberty~

Rain stood on the red tiled roof and leaned with her right shoulder against the crumbling yellow chimney of the building beneath as her gaze looked out over the sea before her, taking in those last few breaths of freedom. The view from her perch was a beautiful sight. With the sun setting off to the west, the water to her right took on a hazy pale yellow and a rosy pink glow, while the rest reflected the black expanse and bright stars above. There were not many places in Thedas where one could see such a plain spectacle of the warmth of day giving to the chill of night. And soon, all too soon she would have to say goodbye to the calming sight as well as to this small spark of independence she had gained these past few months.

A soft salty breeze brushed against her, stirring her ebony hair and she took another deep breath, finding simple pleasures merely in taking the time and tasting the air. Perhaps in some other life this sight would have made her feel something more inspiring. But her memories even dampened the awe she knew she should have felt. She should have been moved by all this, filled with a sense of yearning, wanting to be more than what she was. But having such thoughts was dangerous for her. And the little peace and tranquility she now held tightly too was a fleeting sensation at best, especially when most times all she held within were glowing embers of rage that could spark into a roaring inferno with the right catalyst and an emptiness that even the Void could not hope to swallow up.

But sometimes it was better to feel anger than nothing at all.

Her gaze shifted to a man in the Lowtown markets, the true reason why she was up on her perch and also a prime example of this thought. At times he blended into the evening crowds perfectly, drawing no attention because he was an elf and the more populous humans of this  _fair_  city of Kirkwall deemed him lower than them for it. Then there was also the fact that he carried himself in a way that came natural to all slaves. Silent. Always, always be silent. Your presence should only be known the second the master asks for something. Never ever before. Grace also did not hurt, could not have you stumbling all over yourself while you served your master coffee and cookies. But it was not required like the heavy cloak of silence was.

Rain knew of many slaves that had managed to survive with clumsy characteristics still intact after years of servitude. They were merely given tasks where it did not matter whether one was awkward or not. But none of the loud ones ever made it more than a year. They were always the first to be  _sacrificed_.

At the same time, the longer you served the more grace you had. Even if she had not known his background, she would know that this elf -who was in his late twenties- had to have spent most if not all his life as a slave. Or he could have just been a natural. There were not many, but if she wanted to wager anything she would take the bet that he had been one such slave.

Her charge stopped, examining some oils and stones for keeping his dangerously wicked broadsword that looked to be far too big for him, sharp and clean. There was no physical way a man his size should be able to wield a weapon of such gargantuan proportions. But then not every man had lyrium in etched into their skins or in their blood. The magickal element and Fade connected material was the reason alone why he was allowed to defy the laws of physics and nature. And those white elegant curved markings were also the main reason why he attracted attention. Of course having white hair, a byproduct of the lyrium altering his genetics, did not help with someone his age, and these two characteristics made it harder than you would think to simply "blend in".

A rise in noise from the crowd made the elf tense and her thoughts stilled on the subject as she watched him casually glance over his shoulder and scan the masses around him. To anyone else that may have look at him, it would appear he was indifferent and uncaring, only taking in his surroundings with a quick glance. Dirty streets, smelling at best like a wet Mabari and at worse day old sewage. Poor haggard people, rank thin, trying to use the last hour so of day to buy or sell worn goods. And decaying, crumbling buildings that had endure much these past seven or so years. But Rain knew better then to think those were the only details he was checking. Could see the way his dark green eyes took in every single feature around him and that slight frown that added to his already scowling appearance. Or even the way his stance shifted, readying for an attack.

Yes, he was most certainly an ex-slave on the run. Still being hunted and  _haunted_  by his past. He carried a lot of baggage and most of it coming off as anger. Something they had in common, but...

_A being can only be stretched so thin,_ her thoughts turned inward as she glanced down at her left hand, eyes following the elegant black curves of her tattoo.  _Until the thin webbed cracks appear and everything gives away. The being simply stops existing entirely. Wasting away into this... this nothingness. Not even bitterness holds the shriveled heart that remembers what once was or what could have been._

Rain sighed as she opened and closed her fists, the right hand joining the left and found herself looking for other, different marks that could not be seen on her pale flesh contrasted against the black. She disliked herself when she became all poetic. And moody. Being like this helped no one and did not do much to make her feel better. But it really was the truth. The soul could only endure so much before the spirit broke and the person no longer wanted to live. There was no hiding herself from that truth. She had seen such occurrences many times and then some. Would this be the time he broke? This strong man who had endured so much hardship at the hands of fate? Unless his memory was erased -which was a distinct possibility- slaves who had gained the taste of freedom, more-often-than-not never made it a year before being mulled into the earth and forgotten. And those who did get their memories taken, lost something, becoming an empty shell and worse off than a hard worked slave who had spend their lifetime in slavery.

Shaking her head, she rubbed the back of her neck with a trembling hand, shifting as she placed her back flat against the brick. Why was this getting to her? These thoughts were foolish and wasted time, but she was having troubles quelling them. Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath in and out. Then another... and another. Finally calming her thoughts and body. She needed to steal herself for what she had to do. He was no different than the rest who had been cursed by fate. Was she not the greatest example of this truth? Maybe she needed to stop thinking about others and focus her attention on herself... though, maybe that was not the best idea either.

Opening her light green eyes, she stared blankly at the tiled roof and her dark tan boots. Not really seeing as her dark hair fanned around her, blocking the world from her.  _Will I make it?_  That was the big question. Up till now, she thought all of this would be a simple matter. One that she could constantly remain one-step ahead of and never diverge off the plotted course she had set. Yet now... Now with this tiniest taste of her own freedom. Away from that life that consumed her every waking moment's thoughts... and most of her night's dreams, she now found herself wavering ever-so-slightly. Though, she may have been slipping far longer than she thought or ever cared to admit.

Rain knew freedom was a lie. All she had to do was lift the sleeve of her right arm and see the small blood tattoo lined with magick on her slender wrist to know she was bound until she saw her path through. A choice she had made willing, one she had given immense thought. Much like the man she now shadowed. But perhaps like him she had not taken into account the toll this path would bring to her, thinking she had nothing left to lose. Oh, now she was finding out all too painfully how wrong she had been.

But then, it was almost fitting in a way. Why not give what little she had left of herself to the world that had already taken everything else, just to see her vengeance reached?

A group of children squealed below, running from the orphanage caretaker who was red-faced, not finding anything funning about the boys' antics. Rain's thoughts stopped as she looked for that little girl with copper red hair she had met two weeks ago. A perceptive child, not but seven or so, and who, like the rest of the low town population, was too thin for her own good. Rain's eyes caught the flash of red and found the little girl standing with some of the older, bigger girls, trying to be like them: calm and overly proper as she held that armless doll of hers and a dirty thumb jammed in her mouth, with equally dirty cheeks.

Her green eyes clouded over when she saw that the little girl not only still wore her long amber hair in the Tevinter style braid Rain had done for her, but that the older girls had tried to 'mimic' it and foreign emotions bubbled up from the shadows of her soul. They had not stood a hope in the Void of doing the complex braid. Even Rain's attempt had been lame at best. But considering how horrible the odds were against them, the young women of the orphanage had done a wonderful job in that it was at least recognizable.

_Mother..._  The last time she had seen the braid done expertly had been ages ago from her own mother.

Rain jerked her gaze away as dark memories better left forgotten came up along with the emotions and she straightened up from the chimney, eyes going back to the run-away slave. He stood at the same place she had left him, only he had company. The charismatic dwarf, whose stories were the crown of the HangedMan. Probably the only good thing the establishment had going for it (because the piss-water rum certainly was not... or the smell).

Fenris gave a soft chuckle after Varric said something and she frowned before whispering to the wind, "Enjoy this freedom while it last, Fenrehs."  _Because the fates have not deemed you blessed, and you will discover soon your worst fears are back in Kirkwall. And I am your harbinger, not him._

.~-~.

A voice, almost non-existent, traveled on the breeze to him and Fenris stiffened, not quite sure what was wrong. He glanced around once more -for what felt like millionth time that day- but found nothing again. Next to him Varric's brow rose, questioning, but he ignored him as he continued to scan the thinning crowds around them.

Something, (he wasn't sure what it was, but he wouldn't necessarily call it instinct) told him to turn completely around. He obeyed. Frustrated at still finding nothing he muttered a Tevinter curse under his breath. He was about to turn back around, when his gaze traveled up one of the weather and battle aged buildings. A dark mass he couldn't exactly make out stood on the roof -which was odd given his inherited keen eyesight. He squinted, but the action did no good and the object disappeared right before him. Uncertain, he scanned the rest of the buildings roofs, before dismissing it and turning back to Varric.

"What is it, Elf?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, "Just shadows."

Shrugging, Varric gave his own glance around. "The market's are nearly closed. You coming to the HangedMan for a game?"

Fenris weighed his options, stay in a huge dusty mansion alone or a game with Varric... which included Hawke and that abomination. Considering he was not on the best of terms with Lady Hawke, it probably wasn't wise. He shook his head. "Maybe next time. Night, Varric."

"G'night." Varric frowned as he watched his broody friend leave and shook his head before walking in the direction of the tavern.

.~-~.

The rays of sun breaching the horizon of the following day brought with it a sight Rain had been dreading for the past few days.  _He_  was here. There was no denying that one of the ships anchored out in the bay was his  _Gray Rose_  as the cloudless morning clearly showed both the name and the unique sails with his rather fitting jungle boa that constricted his family insignia. Nor was it any use hoping something stupendous would happen in that small dinghy ride from the ship to the docks. The fates had long stopped smiling down upon her and it was no use praying to the Maker who was not only as fictitious as he was cruel. And do not get her started on the Pantheon.

Letting the early morning light warm her, she leaned back on an old roof above the slum houses near the Alienage and closed her eyes. She needed to retain this calm exposure. Or at least go back to the emptiness or even rekindle the hate from before. These wayward and irrational emotions would be her undoing if she let them. She knew this as steadily as the sun rising at that moment. Emotions were weak. Emotions could be used against you. And more importantly, emotions meant you cared and she did notcare. She could not waste time on such fritherless things. Instead she needed to keep her thoughts constantly plotting, forever planning, calculating each move and each action she made until  _vengeance_  was hers.

The sea breeze drifted lazily across her skin and she sighed, her fragile inner self sinking further to her core. Hidden as it was beneath the barren halls and corridors of her mind and even further down under blood stained memories, it would probably never see the light of day again. Not if things went as planned. And things almost always happened as she had planned. Rare was it ever that something happened that she had not foreseen in some way shape or form. Whichever way this life would lead, she would be there ready for the next step.

_Shall I get this over with?_

She opened her eyes, gaze cold and hardened to the breathtaking view of the rising sun. Noises rose all around her as the city itself seemingly awakened, ringing of the bells from the Chantry competing as it did everyday with the dock and ship bells. Sounds of opening windows, and the early risers setting out for the day, hopeful of what it would bring. As she stood, brushing her leather duster she had been sitting on, only the gull's cries above appeared to mirror the empty loss she felt. But then their cries too were a normal everyday occurrence. There was nothing special about her. And in the end history would never remember her. Not that there was much to remember.

Rain shrugged on her hooded duster before walking to the edge of the roof and stepped off carelessly, ignoring the fact that it was a three story building as she drew her magick to her. The wind whistled around her, lashing her hair all about as a vortex slowed her fall halfway down. With her feet planted firmly, the vortex stilled and she pulled the hood over her head, hiding her face from prying eyes as she glanced left and right to make sure no one had seen her. Not that anyone would see her as she weaved her way through the shadows of buildings. Her footfalls not even a whisper of sound. She was a ghost, and if anyone saw otherwise... then they would not make it back home that night or any night for that matter.

As she snaked her way to her master, she could not help but recall how much she disliked this dreadful city.  _Kirkwall_. She knew every crevice like her intricate tattoos that covered her whole left arm and back before trailing down her right leg. She could not understand how they lived here in these deplorable conditions. Was this not the free land? Slave-less land? If anything Imperium slaves were treated better and while they were viewed as little more than objects they still were well fed and given proper shelter. Freedom was only an illusion. These people were chained to the greed of the wealthy and their rulers, power bestowed upon them by the cruel Maker. If this was it, if this was all that there was... private vice equating to public virtue. Then she wanted none of this. Sure, it felt like they made choices, but what choice was living in this rotting corpse of Lowtown? There were more people leaving in Darktown. And all of them were blind to see what was right before them. Conditioned. No better than an Imperium slave wanting, no, needing to fulfill their Masters' every wish.

When she had first sailed into the city and saw those massive atrocities called the  _Twins_  at the entrance of the port harbor -had seen those withering statues of slaves- she had not been able to fathom how the citizens could stand staring at them day in and out. But having lived a month here, she now saw how perfectly they fitted to Kirkwall's condition nature. _Very fitting indeed._  These people... this city, claimed to be one of the city-states of the  _Free_  Marches and had once been the head capital of slave trade in the Tevinter Imperium. As far as Rain saw it they had only traded one master for another who fed them lies to lure the masses into a false sense of independence and security.

And from what she knew of Thedas, it was much of the same.

Finally reaching the docks Rain remained there, a lone figure in the shadows watching as the deck hands milled about doing their jobs. An hour passed, and then another before the passenger boat was lowered and her Master lowered onto it. Even in the distance, her eyes could see him clearly as he sat down regally in his dark blue mage robes and rested his black oak staff in his hands as he glared angrily at the city with his steel blue-gray eyes as if it were the slave he had come to reclaim. His graying black hair was blasted by the wind, showing how it was thinning with age, and soon he would probably be sporting a flashing bald spot on the back of his head.

Sitting down next to her Master was a young woman. An elf to be more exact, who was two or three years younger than Rain. Her flaming red hair stood out stark against the water washed ship and the sea. On her downward tilted face were the expressions of uncertainty and a deeper sense of pain and worry. Hands folded and fiddling with her dress. She was the sister of the slave they had come to catch. Rain may have been the leash that bound him, but it would be his own blood that led him into the slave collar.

There were certainly people out there that would have been angry with the woman. Cursed her and shunned her for doing this. Rain on the other hand had no true feelings on what the sister was doing. Sure she could blame her, but it ultimately was Rain who would condemn him. And just like with everything else she couldn't afford to feel anything about that. Then there was the little fact that she had gotten to know Varania, her mother, and their position in life rather well. Her actions were logical. And that was what ruled Rain's world. Cold. Hard. Logic. Everyone was just a number or a pawn in the great scheme of her game. Simply pieces for the Magister and her to toy with during their coy dance, a dance that would decide the fate of everyone involved.

Rain knew he suspected her. But he didn't know to what extent she played against him and being one -more like five steps ahead, he never would. And if he ever did, she also had a plan for that.

As the personal boat came to the dock, she stepped from the shadows, startling the deck hands with what they saw as her sudden appearance out of nowhere. Amused, and knowing full well no one could see her face, she let her lips turn up slightly as she sauntered to where her Master, Varania and three of the fifteen guards that he had hired in my absence were stepping out of the boat.

She steeled herself. Never would she ever let her guard down around this man. This vile, monstrous man. Not for anyone or anything.

"Sarain..." he drawled with a slight whine to his voice, stopping before her and brushing her cheek. A false endearment he had loved to do since the moment he had acquired her, and it was an action she loathed with every fiber of her being as well as her full slave name, Sarain. "Tell me you have some good news. It has been a miserable life without you seeing to everything these past months."

Hearing his displeasure at not having her around, she found herself having to force herself not to smile as she tipped her head in greeting. "Yes Master, we have done as you requested." Rain had found that speaking in plural seemed to please him, as it did with most Magisters she had come across. "Let us not speak such topics here for prying ears, Master. One of your  _clients_  graciously offered his homely estate with his permanent leave of this world and we have seen that such accommodations will please you immensely."

She couldn't help but frown when he pulled her close, kissing the top of her forehead, his rough weather worn lips scratched her skin. There are no words to describe how displeased the action made her.

"Ahhh Sarain, my gem," he said as he chuckled happily, "I don't know how I lived my life before you." Holding out his arm for her, she reluctantly accepted it and started to lead him off to the side so that his other guards could finish unloading her Master's personal luggage. "Without you, it had come to my attention how lacking my late wife was- May the Old Gods keep her well. You run everything so smoothly."

She forced herself not to sneer at the mention of the deceased Hadriana as she started to lead him and the others to Hightown and the estate. And anyone would have been better than her at seeing things ran efficiently. Before her death, she had run the estates with an iron fist... one that oozed blood. Fear. It was the only tool she had known. Rain was ever so glad to hear of her  _untimely_  end. In that one year she had known the wicked woman, it had been up there with the worst times of her life, and Rain had many. Actually, she had been exterminated by this very slave that we were going to collect. Rain made a mental note to thank him sometime when everything settled down.

"Did our system we left in our absence not work for you, Master?" she asked, tilting her head as she glanced at him.

"No no... It had worked flawlessly like everything else you do." He shrugged. "It's just the little things you do, my gem, that I missed so much."

Rain's brow rose slightly. She believed she had never heard him give her a compliment before. It was out of character for him and instantly placed her on edge. This was the man who would sooner beat you than recognize a job well done, especially a slave. Did he find her out?  _No_ ,  _that's not it_. Perhaps... he really did simply miss her work. She did go above and beyond what he generally commanded her to do, getting him things he wanted before even asking. It wasn't hard when one planned like her. Not to mention, he was like a child, unable to take care of himself. A poor young made even had to dress him. Mentally she thanked the ancestors that it wasn't her.

Even so, she still did not know how to answer him. Instead she merely bowed her head before looking ahead and as they walked, she found herself hoping there would be no other surprises that night. She hated surprises. It meant she hadn't seen them coming. And she hoped this was not a sign of things to come...

~~~~.~-~.~~~~

 


	2. Betrayal

\- 2 -

Betrayal

Later that day, Fenris stood in front of the HangMan's door. His body tense as he heard another wave of cheers coming from within. What lay behind the door, amongst the normal drunken patrons and curious onlookers would be an out of place elf. He tried to remember what she would look like, but could only recall their shared laughs as children. A certain memory Hawke had stirred up three years earlier. Frankly both women were troubling him equally at the moment. The first, because the elf in the tavern was his sister and she could very well be setting him up. The second... which shouldn't be as troubling as the first, but nonetheless was... was the bitter sting he had felt when Hawke refused to be here with him now.

Fenris couldn't blame her. Not really. Other than the off jobs they needed his ability to pass through objects and a heavy hitter, he hadn't seen or heard from her since the night he left her crying in her room after- He couldn't finish that line of thinking. It was hard, painful knowing Hawke never cried and he had done the impossible of making it happen. Even when her sister and mother died she hadn't cried. He gritted his teeth.  _I'm a fool._  She had been the best thing to happen to him and he turned away from her after she gave him her heart. It hadn't even been a week after her mother's death. It was despicable. He had been a coward. Afraid of everything she brought back. Afraid of everything she made him feel. There hadn't been a moment since leaving her room that day, where that decision didn't haunt him. Leaving her crying and broken in her room. After all she had shown him. Kindness, friendship... her ability to look past almost anything. Instead he slapped all of this back into her face. Leaving Ander's to happily lap up the pieces as if it was milk like that cat he spoke so fondly of. What was his name? Oh... right. Ser-Pounce-Alot.

"I don't think the door is going to bite you Fenris," Merrill said from his side with a hint of playfulness in her voice.

He glanced wearily at the unwanted keeper from one of the Dalish clans. The irony of it all wasn't lost on him. In his greatest moment of need and it was a mage, one who dabbled in blood-magick (and the reason her clan did not want her, he might add) was by his side. She had been walking around the lower markets absent mindedly like she tended to do from time to time, when she had seen him and decided to tag along. The whole way she had talked excitedly about... something... truthfully he hadn't been listening. But Maker, the witch wouldn't even stop to breath. And the whole time she had chatted like they were best friends, when they both knew that couldn't be furthest from the truth. Sure, he had saved her life more times than he would like to admit and sometimes found her naive ramblings amusing, which were rare occasions indeed. The fact was: she was still a mage. Plain and simple. What made all of this that much worse was that she was a mage that saw nothing  _wrong_  with blood-magick. The  _most_   _vile_  thing on the face of this Maker-forsaken world. Just thinking such thoughts made him see red.

She frowned when he didn't insult her back like he normally did, stepping closer. "What is wrong?"

"Nothing," he grumbled, frustrated that he couldn't even put his hand on the door's handle.

"Oh, don't give me that." She suddenly stood before him forcing him to meet her hazel eyes. "You, Fenris, aren't one to be hesitant of things... least of all the drunkards in Hangman..."

His scowl deepened. How could the naive elf still read him so well at times was beyond him. She had done that many times over the past decade or so and each time it only infuriated him more. Especially when she tactfully told him he was making puppy eye's at Hawke, even before he, himself, realized he felt something for the Champion. More than once he had wondered if she was playing them all. Pretending to be naive so that she could seem unthreatening. He had seen enough of her magick in the heat of battle to know that she was anything but weak. And really he would not put it past any mage. He had seen them do it countless times before.

He was looking to the ground sideways, trying to avoid meeting her eyes when he muttered, "My sister is in there."

She gave him a huge smile. "What are you waiting for then?"

Fenris opened his mouth to tell her it was more likely a trap but decided against it. If it was, there wasn't anything she could do. She was strong, but his old master was stronger. Maybe it was a good thing Hawke wasn't there... Sure, as a team they had toppled many monstrous foes. But Danarius was exceedingly powerful, had to be or he would have been killed a long time ago. And while Fenris had been able to kill Hadriana, she had only held her claim due to Danarius. Last thing he wanted was to get Hawke killed... Or worse! Become a slave for his tormentor. No. Definitely better this way. And yet, underneath this he still felt angry with her, knowing that whatever obstacle Hawke came across she overcame it without blinking an eye. If she rounded up all eight of them and they stood together, nothing could stand in their way.

"Fine, move." He gave the black haired elf an annoyed look, pushing away the unease.

Her smile deepened as she stepped aside. "Ohh... I wonder if she's anything like you?" She wrinkled her nose, making the Dalish tattoo's on her face look off. His hand grasped the handle. "Eew... another brooding elf. Varric will love that..."

Rolling his eyes, he pulled the door open and walked in. The stale smell of spilled mead, sweat, and piss rushed out the door hitting him instantly. Pushing away his disgust at the normal smell of this place, he scanned the tavern. His gaze first found Isabela, the always playful pirate captain in her usual spot at the bar laughing and flirting with a group of men. _Figures._  He really shouldn't have been surprised seeing her there. It disgusted him how easy she was and yet in another life he may have just taken advantage of that...

There was no denying that she was a looker with her dark tan skin, chestnut hair and warm amber-brown eyes. She had the curves men craved and damn if she did not know how to flaunt it. The woman didn't even wear pants for Maker's sake. Instead she teased them with a tunic styled bodice that just barely managed to cover everything. How she didn't end up flashing everyone in battle was a wonderment.

Dismissing all thoughts of the scantily clad pirate wench, Fenris' dark green eyes continued looking over small crowds of people as he walked further into the tavern, finally resting on a small elf off in the corner with red hair that would be impossible to overlook. Everything else was forgotten as the sound of laughter echoed once again in his mind and the images of them playing as children flashed behind his eyes. He walked blindly towards her.

Sensing his approach she glanced up, a pained look on her face appeared seconds later. "It is you..."

Blinking to clear the vision, he stopped at the table feeling completely breathless as his heart raced."I... I remember you. We played in Master's court yard while mother worked." He paused shortly, "You called me..."

"Leto... That's your name." She stood, looking away as if ashamed.

"Why are you-" A sick sinking feeling churned in his stomach, which quickly gave way to anger, his brows creased. "You betrayed me!" He had known this was going to happen and yet he still felt the bitter sting. (For the second time that day as well!) She refused to look at him as the tavern went still with his harsh words. All eyes on them.

The silence was abruptly filled with that dreaded voice that haunted his dreams so many times, "Ahhh, my little Fenris. Predictable as always..."

His sister turned away, covering her face and muttered into her hands, "I'm sorry it came to this, Leto."

Furious he glared at the back of her head, growling, "You led him here."

Danarius walked down the stairs casually, a wicked grin on his lips. "Now-now, little wolf. She only did what any good Imperium citizen would do."

His old Master stopped at the bottom, wearing a long blue elegant robe with silver embroidery and an expensive black wood staff in his left hand. The mere sight of him sent shivers down Fenris' spine as all the memories, the pain, and the torture came flooding back. It made him furious how just the image of this man made him feel so weak. There was a glint of wicked delight in his old Master's steel colored eyes... How Fenris wanted to wipe that smirk off the Magister's lips by running his long sword through him or plunge his hand through his old Master's chest and tear out his still beating heart with his lyrium curse.

"I never wanted these filthy markings, Danarius," he replied back angrily, his voice shook with the waves of emotion and his markings glowed somewhat. "But I will not let you kill me to get them."

The Magister frowned slightly, looking a little apprehensive about Fenris' show of power before he glanced back briefly at a cloaked figure who had descended the stairs with him. Fenris saw Danarius relax with the presence and chuckled at him, losing whatever fear he had. "How little you know, my pet."

Gritting his teeth, he tried not to drown in the helplessness of it all as Fenris looked to the hooded figure. It unnerved him that he really couldn't gather anything from them. The black leather duster they wore wasn't exceedingly loose, but it was enough that he could not gather what gender the person was. Their stance was guarded, yet relaxed. And that in-it's-self was the worst thing about the whole situation. He was suddenly anxious about this new person's presence. Who were they? What purpose did they serve? And why would their presence alone set Danarius' mind at ease when a room full of guards and his own mage powers wouldn't?

The only thing he could think them to be was... well... Fenris' replacement. This person could very well be Danarius' new bodyguard. That didn't settle well with him. Fenris had been the Magister's prized possession. His pet. He had spent a small fortune on Fenris to painfully brand the lyrium tattoos on his skin and while the Magister certainly could afford to do it again with another, Fenris knew his old Master would not. It was too much money for an 'if' chance that the subject would live. In addition, there was the little fact that he would have to get the permission from that sect he was in, for they were the ones doing the experiments. Then there was also the matter of his pride. Danarius somehow let a once perfectly loyal slave slip through his fingers and be on the run for roughly ten years. No doubt the other Magisters ridiculed him for that.

Fenris' thoughts were dragged back to the present when the vile old mage continued to speak, "You will return to me, Fenris, for you are my property. I  _own_  you." He gave Fenris a withering, dark look. "And I will not have you running around anymore." He nodded his head towards the hooded person behind him, a silent command to them and obeying, the mysterious figure stepped forward.

Merrill stepped next to Fenris unexpectedly, her normally cheerfully voice surprisingly dark, "He isn't a slave... He is our friend." He wanted to cover his face with his hand at the last bit of what she said, but refrained. Danarius did not care if she was his friend or not. Yet, he couldn't get over his surprise that she had truly stood up for him.

He was further astonished when Isabela sauntered over from her perch by the bar. "You'll find, Dana... I can call you that right?" She continued ignoring the flash of anger in the Magister's eyes, "That Fenris has many friends in Kirkwall and that we don't take lightly to you thinking he is yours." She winked at Fenris as she stood next to him before fixing his old Master a displeased look, her arms crossed at her chest as if she were relaxed but he knew by her stance she was ready to pounce at any moment.

"My my... seems my little wolf has become rather popular with the ladies..." Danarius brushed off her insult.

Varric's booming voice jerked everyone's attention except the hooded figure's to the top of the stairs behind them, "Indeed my poor Bianca here..." The dwarf patted his crossbow that was resting on his shoulder. "Would miss that broody elf. Now leave the HangMan... unless of course you want her to put hundreds of tiny holes in you."

Danarius laughed harshly after a few seconds of silence, startling all of them. "This is too perfect..." His cold gaze fell on Fenris as the horrible sound stopped. "I know all about your friends, my little wolf. Merrill, the dalish keeper turned away from the clan because of her blood-magick practices. Isabela, the pirate wench who will sleep with anything on two legs and I would not be surprised if there were sometimes four..."

"Hey! I do have standards," she started defensively, but then her voice trailed off, "...I'll have you know."

"And then there is the enigmatic dwarf behind me, who's own brother turned on him in the deeproads because of greed." His smile broadened into a wicked smile seeing their shock. "Only to become insane by the very thing he stole." Without turning back to look, he addressed Varric, "How is finding that missing lyrium artifact going, by the way? I'll give you a clue, it's far closer than you think."

Fenris' fists were clenched at his sides, while just moments before it had been because of rage was now due to him holding back his fear. "How do you know this?"

"Oh, I know many things, my pet." His eyes glinted with sinful delight. "Tell me, how is Miss Hawke? Certainly she's being kept busy by that man you detest so." He chuckled at his distressed look, "How do you like being replaced by what you yourself call an abomination?"

Fenris didn't know what to say. His sister tricking him to meet her, leading him right into Danarius' trap was one thing, but there was no way she would know all this. And it made him wonder: Just how much did his old Master know about his life here in Kirkwall and those around him. More importantly... How did he know? Sure, Varric told stories every night in the HangMan about their adventures, but one would have to dig through all the lies and glorified rubbish to distinguish the truth from it all.

Danarius shrugged. "If you must know..." He then reached for the figures hood and started to pull it down as he continued speaking, "My dear Sarain here was the one who gathered every piece of information she could about you and your friends this past month before my arrival."

The hood fell away and a crown of raven hair, even darker than Hawke's -if that was at all possible- spilled out from underneath. The woman had been staring at the floor when Danarius' revealed her to them and ever-so-slowly she looked up, her emotionless vivid jade eyes focusing in on him. Fenris felt like he was falling into them as they bore through his soul. The woman was beautiful, exotic even with her sharply angled face that almost made her appear not elven. Her eyes were somewhat smaller than most females of their race and were shaped more like Isabela's than Merrill's.

"She is also the bodyguard who replaced you." Fenris blinked, his old Master's voice freeing him from her stare and he forced himself to look away. "Without anyone even noticing her, she watched all of you. Even followed on some of the jobs this supposed Champion of Kirkwall does," he snorted with disgust at the thought of doing simpleton work. "Go on, Sarain, tell them what you told me as the reasons for you going on those pathetic jobs."

"We were bored, My Master." Fenris couldn't help but shiver hearing her empty voice and he looked back up at her. "It was easy to learn everything about them in this tavern, through those they had helped and the contacts they kept."

Danarius laughed, "She even had time to deal with five clients of mine that were giving me  _issues._ "

She was the one responsible for those burnt, disfigured bodies found in the harbor and Darktown? There had been nothing left to identify them... And elites, how had she managed to kill five whole families without anyone noticing their absence? Fenris wanted to be sick as he watched the vile mage brush the woman's hair with his finger tips and stared fondly at her. This woman was the reason why Danarius was so relaxed. The Magister would only accept the best. Never would he take a bodyguard that was not as powerful, if not more powerful than Fenris. To him that would be like down grading. If she could bypass all of them and not alert anyone, even him, then she really did have to be good. Most of their contacts knew next to nothing about them and those they did give information too they trusted with their lives. How then did she get them to talk? His gaze went to Varric, their eyes meeting briefly. There was concern in his eyes and Fenris knew that the dwarf was thinking along the same lines.

The Magister continued, "Sarain is a master at almost anything you can think of so do not feel so bad, my pet, that she found everything out with such ease." His gaze shifted back to him. "With that in mind, I suggest you give yourself up without a fight."

Fenris felt so powerless, the same inevitable feeling crashing down upon him. All these years of running and here he was, defenseless to do a damn thing. He didn't know what edge she had when it came to fighting, but you could bet she had one. Was she like him? A lyrium tattooed being? As far as he could tell she wasn't. He would feel it. But if she was anything like him when it came to fighting then everyone in this tavern would be slaughtered if Danarius decided to set her free.

He glanced at Isabela who was shifting nervously. Then to Merrill, even she knew their situation was dire. Lastly he looked back to Varric. These people meant so much to him and just now he was realizing how much. Sure, they irritated him, some more than others in Merrill's case, but he had spent so many years fighting by their sides protecting each other that he learned to actually care about them. He did not want to see them die. And it was that revelation that was most painful of all. Just when he realized that and even accepted it he was going to be torn away from them. Now he found himself wishing he had accepted Varric's offer last night and played a few games.

Merrill stepped in front of him, the free hand not holding her staff started to spark with electrical charge. "Do not dismiss us so easily, Shem."

Withdrawing her daggers Isabela fell into her fighting stance next to Fenris. "Kitten is right. If you know so much, then who do you think helped to kill your precious Hag'riana?"

A brief moment of rage passed over Danarius features before he gained control of himself. "Yes. My dear  _Hadriana_... I will pay you in kind for that, my pet. Now Sarain, will you please kindly give them a demonstration. I grow tired of this place and it seems nothing that has been said has deterred them any."

The woman started to unclasp her duster. "What manner of demonstration do you have in mind, My Master?"

She let the coat slip off her shoulders, revealing what she had been wearing underneath, which was a form fitting black hard leather bodice with a dark maroon long sleeved shirt beneath that. She wore black pants made of some other material and dark tan boots that went slightly up past the knee. Strapped to her hips on two crossing red belts were twin daggers and down along the side of her legs were a few throwing knives and other small weapons. In all, she painted a rather menacing look.

After tossing the coat to a chair, she went down on one knee and pulled out a hand crafted six inch wooden stick with a razor point tip from her boot. As she stood again, she pulled all her hair back, twisting it into a messy bun before securing it with the stick. In doing so she revealed her ears which brought to his attention again, that she looked far different from his race than he originally thought. Never in all his traveling had he come across someone with ears that were elongated an inch more than normal and curving up somewhat. Then there were the tips. It was like if someone touched them they would prick their finger and draw blood they were so pointed.

Danarius lips turned up a little as he answered her, "How about we clear the room some, Sarain? It feels rather cramped."

Her jade eyes scanned the crowd of people gathered around before settling on Fenris again. "As you wish, My Master."

Sensing their doom some of the patrons started to back away, those being the ones who didn't fight or were cowards, while the rough lowlifes and thugs glared at her, pulling out weapons hidden on their persons. There were six men that stood out especially, glancing between each other with growing confidence and snickering at the fact that she was just a small woman. What harm could she do? But Fenris knew better. It was foolish for them to judge on appearance alone and would surely be their undoing.

"Let's see what you got, girly," said one of the men smiling as he stepped forward, revealing teeth that had certainly seen better days given their rotten yellow decay.

Fenris got this sinking feeling in his gut when the woman called Sarain looked sideways at the six men, tilting her head slightly as she appraised them with indifferent interest. She again looked back at him, dismissing the man as a threat and instead kept her gaze on the one she viewed was. The smile on the man's face faltered with the blatant disregard for him and the other men behind him.

Growling angrily, he snapped, "Aye girly, we are your opponents right now, not them." When she continued to ignore them, he lunged at her.

If Fenris had blinked he would have missed what happened altogether as the woman moved with lightning speed, pivoting on her feet silently and intercepting the man's attacking knife by catching his wrist. She brought her other arm up with a swift jab and a sickening snap could be heard throughout the room as she broke his forearm with her elbow before pulling him down by the shoulders into her knee. He remained there, bent over in pain as she took a few steps back, letting him regain his composure. His pain labored breathing the only sound in the whole tavern.

"Y-You won't get away with that, girly," the man managed after a minute, straightening and holding his broken arm. "Come on boys."

The five men charged her and she slid her foot back into a fighting stance, waiting for them to get within range. She ducked the first swing and came up grabbing the attacking man's arm. Twisting it painfully, she forced him to drop the sword as she stepped next to him. Then she back fisted him with her left hand before moving behind him and slamming her foot down on the back of his knee, shattering it. She kicked him in the back with enough force that he slid into the far wall, hitting his head and breaking his neck. Killing him instantly.

"Hm." She tiled her head to look at the dead man, scratching the back of her neck and looking surprised that it happened.

It gave the other men a moment to pause, but not for as they sprung after her, crying out harsh words, upset about their dead friend. Her back was to the next two that were attacking her, but it mattered not for she turned swiftly with a round-house kick that hit the left one sending him into the second and toppling them both into a table. She nodded, find how much she had to hold back.

The next few minutes were embarrassing to watch as she easily dodged the five remaining men, moving with a grace one could almost characterize as a dancer. She broke a few more arms and dislocated two shoulders, but except for that one man, she didn't kill any. Only knocking them down so that they could get back up, angrier then the last time and attacking again. It was like a cat playing with mice. It was that pitiful. She painfully out classed them even without any weapons. The whole time she had the ever subtle grin on her lips, hinting at how much she was enjoying herself at their expense.

Knowing this made Fenris uneasy. The woman herself needed no weapons for her own body was one. Never had he seen someone fight quite like this. Sure, fighting hand-to-hand was not unheard of, there were some groups out there that trained to fight without weapons, but this was a whole different level. Then there was something else that was making him edgy. His skin hummed slightly, telling him magick was being used, but as of yet he had seen no sign of it. All the same, the faint smell of fade reached him, agreeing with his other senses.

"Idiots," Isabela hissed under her breath for only Fenris and Merrill to hear right as the woman dropped to the ground and swept two of the men's feet out from under them. "Can't they tell she's just toying with them?" He glanced at the pirate, who watched with a grim frown. "If she wanted she could have killed them all within a minute... look at how fast she moves."

Fenris turned his attention back to the obviously unfair fight, unable to agree more. And then that was when it clicked. Her speed. She was using magick to increase it. He wasn't sure how or with what abilities, but that was what she was doing. There were times when she moved at speeds even he could not reach with his lyrium abilities and was just a blur to his own senses. But this... this was not natural. Mages didn't fight up close. They kept at a distance like the spineless cowards they were. How did she learn how to do this? His mind was reeling with the realization, unable to wrap his head around it.

She dodged one of the men, kicking him with another expertly executed round-house to the face, forcing him to land on another table and broke it. The other men were groaning loudly as they slowly picked themselves up from the ground. Danarius sighed, "I enjoy the entertainment, my gem, but stop dragging this out and finish them already. We have other business to attend to."

She turned her head slightly to look at the Magister, giving a nod of understanding. "Of course, My Master."

Given the kill command, she wasted no time as she suddenly sprang forward, jumping silently with her right foot onto a table before lunging herself off of it and at one of the men who had just managed to right himself. She slammed her elbow into the side of his neck, breaking it with an audible crack that made the guards and those few patrons who remained cringe. Fenris had felt the magick she put behind the hit, adding more force to it. So not only did she use magick to increase her speed, but her strength as well? That was a frightening though. Yet an even scarier notion was... Could she still do what every other mage could from a distance?

The woman's feet hadn't been on the ground for even a second or two when she starting positioning herself for the next man so that she faced him. He swung, aiming for her chest when she pulled her left dagger out with her left hand to block, then with flashing speed she withdrew the right and sliced his sword arm off. Flipping the daggers in her hands so that she held them normally, she attacked his exposed neck with little resistance and not even waiting to see his head and body separate, she turned towards her next victim. Using her momentum from it, she threw the dagger in her right hand at one of the three men behind her. The poor sod didn't even know what hit him when the blade sliced through his neck all the way to the hilt, severing his spinal cord. A second later she was on the man, having followed the dagger as it moved, and jumped onto him, planting her knees in his chest while she grabbed her dagger's hilt. Then using his body and her magick as if it were a wall, she pushed off and arched her back into a flip, landing firmly on the balls of her feet and bent her knees to absorb the landing, with only the ever faintest  _thump_.

The last two men hesitated. And rightfully so, this... this monster... this she-demon, just killed three men in maybe half of a minute, if that. Slowly she straightened, looking at the men with a cold, calculating look. She brought one of her daggers up, holding it sideways so that a flat side of the blade faced her. Taking her eyes from them, she focused on the blood that was dripping from it. A vortex started to move around the one that remained at her side, starting at the hilt and going down the blade, collecting the blood as it went, becoming a red swirl. When it reached the tip the vortex stopped suddenly and the blood splashed to the floor.

Dropping the clean blade and using magick to make it stick in the wood floors, she reached up. The tip of her pointer finger touching the side of the blade collecting a dab of blood before letting her arm that held the sword relax back down at her side. She focused back on the two men as she drew a curving line with the blood on her left cheek, starting just below the eye and snaking the mark all the way to her chin. At the same time another vortex appeared on the second dagger, collecting the blood and making it splash to the floor with a sickening  _splat_.

It was clear she was playing mind games with everyone in the room. Trying to intimidate them. And it was not much of a surprise to find that it was working. One of the men, the one who first got his arm broken by her, took a step to flee, but she threw the dagger remaining in her hand. The blade sliced his cheek just before embedding itself into the wall, stopping him. Wide-eyed the man turned slowly to look at her, the smell of fear thick in the air, not just from him but everyone. She had not missed accidently.

"You are an imprudent fool, perhaps you should join you're friends." She threw her hand forward, facing him with her fingers spread and as her palm started to glow yellow, the same glow surrounded the man, lifting him an inch or so from the ground. Her glare turned frightening as her face set in deadly determination. "We dare you to call us  _girly_ again..." She rotated her wrist as she closed her hand into a fist and Fenris could feel the waves of magick flowing from her. "... in the vacant abyss," she hissed out and the man cried out in pain just before she threw her hand down and open, and he was torn apart before them. Blood and gore flew the radius of five and then some, hitting both guards and patrons alike.

She was breathing noticeably heavier a few seconds after as everyone stood around with horrified expressions, realizing what just happened and with that realization some wiped or shook off the deceased man's blood as if it were a snake. The last man was shaking with fear as he brought his hand up and cleaned his face. Bringing his hand back down he looked at it, knowing there was no escaping his fate. He was going to die by this she-demon's hand. Fear and self preservation spurred him forward, lashing out at her and catching her off guard. She just narrowly dodged his sword, the blade barely slicing her left arm. She evaded the next two swings with ease before rolling with the third and kneeling right next to the dagger she had left in the floor. Quickly she pulled it out with her right hand just before the man attacked.

Her dagger may have been a foot or so shorter than the man's sword, but as they exchanged blows back and forth one would have never been the wiser. Again she toyed with the man, not taking obvious gaps in his defense. In fact she hardly went on the offensive, parrying and blocking as she seemingly danced from foot to foot. The woman finally grew bored after a few minutes and switched to offence. She overpowered him, the man almost unable at times to block her. She still didn't take any of the open gaps in his defense, but it was clear the fight would soon come to a close.

If Fenris didn't dislike mage's so much and she wasn't Danarius' new bodyguard, he might have openly showed his admiration for the woman. He himself, was fast and light on his feet, but he focused more on strength. And while he could take down a horde of enemies, he normally came out fairly banged up. Something told him, if she really tried... she could kill the same horde without a scratch on her person. It would have to take a group of well coordinated powerful people or luck to take her down. It made him wonder whether if the whole gang was there, if they could do it. Perhaps, but he still felt so weak compared to her, een though, he had years upon years of self training and what his body knew of fighting before his memory was taken from him... The way this woman moved, it was like her whole life was fighting. Like it was the only thing she did.

The woman disarmed the man, his sword clattered to the floor. But before she could act upon it he brought his arm back with one more desperate attempt at survival and punched her in the mouth, catching her by surprise. Or did she let him do it? Her head merely snapped to the side and Fenris could see a small protecting shield shimmer, absorbing most of the force. He realized then that the he hadn't been seeing things when he saw the same shimmer when the man managed to cut her arm. What else could she do? Already she used magick to increase her speed and strength... and now a source of protection? Not only that, but clearly she could still cast some magick from a distance. How much though remained to be seen.

Brushing the punch off, she plunged her dagger into his chest and held him close, saying something that made his eyes widen in shock. With disgust, she twisted the blade before pushing him off it and the man fell to the ground, dead. Fenris couldn't help but wonder what she had said to him. Even his sensitive hearing hadn't picked it up. But did it really matter? Not really. This woman was the enemy. One of the worst yet. He wouldn't be surprised if she had let some sort of demon take her body for this power, or in the very least learned all this from one.

She cleaned her dagger again with the vortex as she licked her split lip that was bleeding slightly. Frowning, she brought her free hand up to touch it and a faint green glow circled her fingers. A few seconds later the glow stopped and she wiped the blood off on her sleeve of her forearm, the wound gone. She brushed a stray hair behind her ear and put her dagger back in its sheath before looking at the slice on her arm. Again the green glow developed over her fingers and the wound healed. With that settled she walked towards her other dagger still in the wall to reclaim it. As she neared, everyone... including the guards, backed away from her. You would have to be insane not too after seeing what she could do.

Of course the woman would have to be a healer as well! How in the world was Fenris supposed to defeat someone like her? No one could be all powerful without a weakness, but with the powers of a mage and her skills of a deadly fighter alone... the task seemed impossible at best. His head fell, eyes shifting to the floor and he took in the five dead bodies and the gore left over from the last. The only thing he could think to do would be to overpower her and give her too many things to worry about. Her pool of magick could not last forever. Not to mention that shield that hugged her body like a second skin wasn't impenetrable. It also looked like she had to stop and concentrate to cast any intermediate and major spells... that was a rather huge opening.

He looked up as she walked back towards Danarius, her other dagger back in its sheath and all healed up. Thinking about it, maybe there was a way to beat her, but it certainly would take a lot. While the men she had just killed had been foolish and weak fighters at best, she had kept track of every single one of their moves and when she didn't she almost appeared to have a sixth sense.

The woman came to a stop somewhat before and kiddy corner to her Master. He grinned, his eyes glinting with bloodlust. "Ah, thank you, gem, for that lovely show." As he spoke, she turned her head slightly looking back at Fenris, keeping the threat in her sight.

Merrill stared at the woman with wide-eyed wonder. "Y... You're an arcane warrior..." All eyes went to her and she did not pay them any heed as she continued breathlessly. "... just like in the old Dalish stories. B...But that's supposed to be a lost art."

"Yes," Danarius spoke, drawling with a small delighted purr. "Isn't she a beautiful specimen." The Magister stepped to the woman and brushed her face gentle with his knuckles. "She uses her powers to increase her speed, strength and durability. She can even at times enchant her weapons to carry an element of her choosing, though there has been little need."

Fenris' brows came together. "How?"

His old Master shrugged and chuckled, "Truthfully I do not know and really do not care. She was an amazing find four years ago when I learned who was making the streets in all Imperium cities run red and I simply had to have her," he sighed, "It was rather unfortunate that the mysterious slavers who created her had originally sold her to Magister Devius and well... you could say he like to lone out her many talents quite frequently, at times playing both sides of a Magister dispute." He snorted, "He was a fool to use such a gem so carelessly. It got to the point that the Imperial Archon was about to intervene, use his elite guard to capture and execute her for the sheer number of lesser Magisters' she had killed." His gaze fell on Fenris, the amusement eminent in them. "No one was safe from her if she was ordered to kill them. No fortress could keep her out for she could intelligently bypass any defense in place."

"So you saved her from that fate and now she follows you loyally," Fenris bit off angrily, disgusted.

Danarius just laughed and the four friends shared uneasy glances. "I would like to think she is as loyal as you used to be if not more, but..." He grabbed the woman's right arm suddenly, turning her roughly to face them as he pulled down her sleeve revealing the crimson mark of a blood spell on the inside of her wrist. "Whether she is or not she has no choice. She is bound to me with the strongest blood-magick out there. If I am hurt or killed, her life-force replenishes what is lost or she dies with me. If she gets too far from me without my consent, she dies." Clearly not liking being handled, she lightly jerked her arm from his grasp and pulled away. "And the best part is that she has to follow my direct orders or pain will seize her," he sighed with disappointment, "She has not ever disobeyed me, but..." A dark curl smile appeared on his lips. "I can evoke it anytime I wish."

Fenris knew that smile and was not surprised when his old Master raised his hand. The woman's eyes widened a fraction when the red static ripped through her body, forcing her to take a staggered step forward to catch herself. The surprise vanished quickly as she gritted her teeth and her brow creased with discomfort, trying to ride the pain out and remain standing. As the seconds passed, Fenris could feel her own magick through the blood-magick, trying to counter its effects. After a couple of minutes she glanced up, meeting his gaze with her guarded one.

"Rather resilient isn't she?" Danarius chuckled harshly before putting more magick behind it, causing the red sparks to jump and crackle. "I just love how she tries to fight it. Never had I a slave do that and frankly it never really gets old even after four years."

With the increased blood-magick, he felt her counter-magick rise, but it was clear the pain was still affecting her concentration and thus unable to hold onto it as well. She was breathing heavily from the strain and drain on her body, sweat beading on her brow. Her gaze fell to the floor, her clenched fists white from trying to stay standing and not give in. He didn't understand why she didn't. Why endure the pain a moment longer when he would stop if she all but gave in? It didn't make sense.

He had been watching her, unsure if he should feel any sympathy for her given what she was, when he noticed the black tattoo that covered almost all of her left hand made more noticeable with the white as she clenched it. The tattoo was detailed, beautiful with its curving design that appeared to continue up into the sleeve. It was just normal ink, but there was something about it... something important. Yet, what that was he didn't know.

"P-Please stop," Merrill's voice shook, her expression pained just watching the woman suffer. Isabela and Varric looked just as upset. Did he not tell them countless times what Danarius and Magisers were like? Even if their slaves did everything to please them, they still tortured them.

His old Master looked at them, pleased that it was troubling them. "Sarain, drop your magick."

Fenris' scowl hardened, looking from Danarius to the woman, while Merrill gasped. She had to obey or suffer more. At first she tried, but then bowed her head and whispered softly before letting her magick go, "Antepasados, dáme forza." It sounded like a lot like the elven language to him, but never had he heard those words before... Where was this demon from originally?

Without the counter-magick, the blood-magick ripped through her body and try as she may she couldn't stay on her feet. A pained grunt escaped her as she fell to one knee and leaned forward onto her right hand, panting in short shallow breaths.

"Stop. Why are you doing this?" Isabela asked, shaken. "She did everything you asked... why are you punishing her?"

He laughed at her and stated simply, "Because it's amusing and I feel like it." Isabela paled. It didn't matter if what a Magister did made any sense as long as they enjoyed it. "And I have not seen her in three months, it's always good to remind them who is really in charge, you know. After such a show of strength I think now is as good of time as any."

Unable to stand it anymore, Merrill charged a lightning bolt and threw it at Danarius. And as she had hoped, he was forced to stop hurting the woman to cast a fire ball to block the bolt. He glared at her as he snapped at her, "Now that was not very nice. Perhaps you need to be taught some manors. Sarain, get to your feet."

The woman went to do as he commanded, but her shaky knees buckled and she fell to the floor. Danarius frowned at the sight, but Fenris could only feel hope. If this woman was out of the fight, then maybe they could bring him down. Yet... at the same time, despite how much he tried not to... he did feel something akin to pity for this woman. His eyes lingered on her as she slowly tried to sit up, painfully reminding him that that had once been him. When things went wrong or Danarius wanted the sick amusement of tormenting someone, it was she who took all the torture and pain. He knew this only because that was how it was when he had been in her place. While he disliked mages and even more so with her different magick that made her seem more a demon then an elf, he wouldn't wish Danarius on anyone...

Fenris sneered, "Seems you pushed  _amusement_  too far, Danarius."

"That it does." He shrugged carelessly. "Does not matter, I can deal with you just as easy without her. Varania, get her out of my way." Trying to force down his rising pity for the demon woman, he watched as his sister jumped with Danarius' command and went to the woman's side.

"Hn," he snorted with disgust. "Wasn't the whole point of this show..." He gestured to the dead as Varania helped the woman up slowly and walked her to the corner of the room. "To make us not want to fight her? And now you just neutralized her? Perhaps I should thank you for making killing you easier."

"I grow tired of your disrespect,  _slave._ " Danarius hit the bottom of his staff on the ground with anger. "I think it's time you learned your place and what better way than to kill you friends."

Fenris, Isabela and Merrill dodge a fireball that hit the patrons behind them, burning them to a crisp before their charred bodies could even hit the floor. The room became chaos then as the other guards moved to attack them, keep them at range while Danarius could attack from a safe distance. Patrons rushed towards the door, or back up the stairs, fleeing in fear, while a fewer number stayed to fight. Isabela rolled easily to her feet and charged the nearest guards, pulling the shadows around her and becoming near invisible to sight. She grabbed a smoke bomb, tossed it into the crowd and appeared silently behind one. As her twin daggers stabbed into his back, the man cried out in pain adding to the noise and confusion.

Fenris rolled to his feet as well, keeping crouched down low he pulled his long sword from its sheath on his back. His eyes first falling on Merrill in front of him who, in a less graceful way, managed to get to her feet and started to fire electric bolts and conjured boulders at Danarius. It appeared his master saw her as the main threat. Varric's loud booming voice rose above the racket, calling out taunts at the guards as his Bianca cut them down. It seemed his friends had made his choice for him. He had to fight. Even if the chance that they won this was slim at best.

Giving a low growl, he threw himself into battle, swinging his broadsword down upon one of the guards and slicing him in two before he could attack Merrill. He felt his lyrium markings come to life as he engaged the next two that charged, blocking the left one with ease and blasting him back with a wave of lyrium energy. He then turned on the next one who had caught the edge of the blast, knocking him slightly off balance and leaving him open. Before the man could regain his footing, Fenris was in front of him, his hand glowing blue as he phased it through his armor and chest. Re-solidifying his arm, he yanked out the man's heart and threw it away, his attention going back to the first man.

When that man too fell to the floor dead, Fenris paused, taking in his surroundings and the battle. Isabella and Varric had almost finished off the last of the guards, and it also appeared Merrill was holding her own against his old Master. Perhaps there was a chance after all. He had to get Danarius down, however, while the unwanted keeper knew some blood-magick and was adapt at lightning and earth spells, she would not last forever against him. His eyes focused in on Danarius, his rage rising. How should he go about it was the question. Surely he had his magick barrier up... he would have to wait until Merrill attacked before he could get through.

Fenris' gaze then shifted to the side where his sister and the woman were. The demon-woman was sitting on the table as his sister tried to heal her, looking better than before but still clearly feeling the pain. Her eyes were on him watching him closely and seeing the position of her body he knew that if she had to she would attack to save her master's hide. A person didn't just stand up to such pain only to let a blood-curse kill them. Then there was this look in her vivid green eyes. She would be trouble if he did manage to break through the barrier. But he would cross that line when he got there.

First things first, he had to get ready for any openings. Moving quickly, he positioned himself out of Danarius' line of sight, attacking or knocking down a few remaining guards that got in his way. From the corner of the room, he watched and waited. The last three guards Danarius had brought with him being taken care of easily by Varric with an explosive arrow and Isabela with her normal back stab attack. When she was done she crouched in the opposite corner, her eyes meeting his and gave a quick nod. She had his back. If his attack failed to go through or if Danarius new bodyguard deflected it, then she would get him. All they needed was an opening.

"Mythal'enast!" Merrill yelled out, blasting a powerful charged lightning chain at the Magister.

Taking that as his cue, Fenris charged bringing his long sword high over his head as he jumped up into the air. Aiming for the top of his head, he brought his blade down only to be stopped by the barrier a foot from his head. Not only had it caught Merrill's attack, but his... Could Isabela break through the magick bubble like Hawke generally could? Steadying himself after being knocked back his eyes went to the pirate rogue, just barely making her out as she moved with the shadows. She lunged at Danarius' back, for a second Fenris almost believed she would to it... that she would break the protecting bubble like Hawke did countless times before, but just like him, Isabela crashed against the shield and was tossed back.

The Magister threw back his head and laughed, "Fools. I am one of the most powerful Magisters of the Imperium. I can count on my two hands alone those who are stronger than I."

Merrill glanced between Fenris and Isabela, reaching her limit with normal magick. She knew they disproved of her using blood-magick and that Hawke had asked her to not use it, but there was nothing else she could do. With grim determination she pulled out her small dagger with her free hand and slid it across her palm. Using the welling blood she cast a spell, restoring her mana reserves by using the blood of the first. Holding her bloody knife out before her she then turned her attention back to Danarius, if they couldn't get past his shields then they would have to resort to darker methods. Drawing her strength to her she started to chant the spell for wounds of the past, it let her past the barrier and to the Magister's blood, using it against him and hurting him from the inside out.

Fenris blinked when Danarius barrier wavered and he groaned in pain as his remained rigid. As if he were paralyzed. Confused, Fenris looked to Merrill, then frowned realizing what she was doing. His skin crawled with her blood-magick and he was not happy in the least that she had used it, but... His dark green gaze went to his old Master. It looked like it had worked. Danarius had dismissed the unwanted keeper as weak, not once considering that she would use blood-magick on him. While he didn't like or approve of it, it still worked and it was the best chance they would ever get at bringing the Magister down.

Not waiting another second he charged his old Master, angling the great sword for his neck. His blade passed through the weakened barrier with the help of his lyrium and just when he thought it was all going to end, pain ripped through his body as something  _hard_  hit him and he was thrown back with such an amazing force it threw him across the room and into the wall. With the air thoroughly knocked out of him, he slid to the floor onto crumpled rocks, dazed. Unsure what happened.

"Elf, you okay over there?" Varric called out to him as Fenris tried to sit up from the floor.

Still confused, he looked up seeing the dwarf firing at Danarius' new bodyguard who was fighting against Isabela. No longer was Danarius' shield weakened, in fact it looked even stronger than before and Merrill was panting heavily staring wide-eyed at the arcane warrior mage. His eyes fell on the broken up rocks and hazily he pieced it all together. This Sarain finally made her move, he had been foolish to disregard her even if she was in pain. Clearly she had not only batted him away with her own conjured rock formation, but overpowered Merrill before taking on the feisty pirate and Varric.

Slowly he managed to get to his hands and knees and absent mindedly brought his hand up to wipe away the warmth on his cheek. Bringing his hand down, he found the warmth had been blood. Most likely from a cut, which he could feel burning. His eyes went back to the battle before him, once again the feeling of the inevitability of it all crashed down upon him. Yet this time... it wasn't Danarius. If it had only been him they would have killed him. Especially if Hawke had been there, it would have been easy. But this Sarain was more than what the four of them could handle. Maybe if Hawke, Sebastian, Aveline and yes... even Anders were there. He couldn't believe he was thinking that, but he knew with all of them together they probably would have had a chance at beating her, especially with her hurting like she had to be.

The woman back flipped, kicking Isabela in the chin as she barely dodged Varric's arrows, two below her and three above, with one barely nicking her stomach. Springing on her hands, she landed on her feet soundlessly and stood before throwing one of her daggers into the floor, impaling it there. With her hand then free she faced it towards Varric. Her hand glowed a greenish color and above the dwarf a grouping of rocks appeared.

Fenris didn't understand why she wouldn't just conjure up a giant bolder, only to realize his friend could still be in danger of being hurt. "Varric, watch out!" Varric looked up just as the rocks fell on him and he disappeared underneath.

Breathless, he could only stare. The dwarf couldn't be dead... just couldn't be. But when no sound came from the pile of rubble and Merrill started to sob, crying out to Varric... He had been their friend. Fenris couldn't believe that the loud and at times annoying dwarf could really be gone. Yet, how could he survive all that weight? He may have been a dwarf, but he was a surface dwarf and even they had their limits. While he knew all this, just the thought that he was dead was still so hard to grasp.

"Isabela!" Merrill yelled, jerking his attention away from the rocks to the pirate and Danarius' bodyguard.

They stood at the far wall, with Isabela's back pressed into it. Mouth dry with fear, he grabbed his sword and started to stand, but when Sarain stepped away from the pirate, pulling from her chest a crimson dripping knife, he knew that she too would not survive this day. Already he could see her blood gush out, staining her cream top. Yet, what he couldn't understand was why her warm amber-brown eyes were focused solely on the arcane warrior. It was almost as if she were listening to something the woman was saying as she slid down the wall onto the floor. He saw something flash in her eyes, but the distance between them made it difficult to make heads-or-tails of what it was. Her lips moved then, it looked like she asked, 'Who are you?' But he wasn't sure and had no chance of hearing anything when Danarius' laugh echoed through the tavern having gained back his breath.

"Foolish child. Playing with blood-magick." His cold steel eyes settled on Merrill. "I will show you what real blood-magick is."

The Magister sliced his hand, his blood pooling on the ground before him and his hands glowed red as he drew upon its power, his chanting filling the air just seconds before Merrill's screams of pain. He flinched, watching as Danarius drew out her death. What could he do? He was alone. Varric was crushed under a mountain of rubble and Isabela was sure to die from that wound in her chest. And while Danarius clearly had seen better days, the fact still remained was that his bodyguard fed him her own life force. To kill him he would have to go after her and while she was winded and in pain, he doubted that he could kill her. He had no experience with an arcane warrior mage. Wouldn't even know where to begin...

His eyes went to the woman then, who was looking at Danarius with a small scowl on her face. Next to her Isabela was saying something frantically to her that he couldn't hear over all the noise, perhaps trying to get the woman to help them. But the pirate simply didn't understand. The woman couldn't do anything directly against her master. She couldn't hurt him for it only hurt her... even now he could see the strain from Merrill's own blood-magick. A few red blisters on her left chin and her hands proved their connection. Nor could she disobey a direct order.

The woman tilted her head slightly, looking down at Isabela and Fenris could see her saying something before holding out her free hand. It glowed a yellow-green briefly and Isabela's body relaxed, her eyes closing. At first he thought she was dead until he saw the chestnut hair in front of her mouth move. Every other sign told him she was dead, even her chest hardly moved... Frowning, he glared at the woman. Fenris didn't understand why she would put Isabela to sleep. To ease her suffering perhaps? But why?

Her brilliant jade eyes fell on him and for a few seconds regarded him before glancing to Merrill and back. Confused, he looked to the unwanted keeper who was still screaming. What was she trying to get at? Yes, she too was probably going to die. What could he do about that? Then it clicked. He had to get Merrill out of Danarius' sight. Yet... he looked to the door behind him, then to the stairs. He would reach neither without Danarius or the woman stopping him. But he could use his lyrium to phase through the wall. It was risky. He hadn't tried it with another living being...

Looking back to the woman, she bowed her head slightly seeing that he had gotten it and moved to the other side of Danarius so that the Magister was between them. She was giving him space to run. Of course she would have to give chase... But why? Why was she helping him? What goal was she striving for?

Fenris shook his head, his white hair lashing around him as he tried to clear those thoughts. That didn't matter now. As far as he saw it, he could figure that out the long trek back to the Imperium if she caught him. He would need something to distract him from the hell he was returning too and trying to figure out her objectives would do very well at that. He had to save Merrill. While naive and annoying at times. Carelessly doing blood-magick... She still stood by him when Hawke would not.

Dropping his sword he rushed to her side and swiftly picked her up and turned so that his back was to Danarius, forcing her mostly out of the Magister's line of sight. His skin itched with her in his arms, able to feel the blood-magick still being used upon her.

"Fen... ris," she gasped through labored breaths of pain, looking up at him.

Frowning, he didn't look down as he concentrated on the lyrium burned into his skin. "Hold on, you foolish witch," for once his voice carrying none of the harshness that it normally did, "I don't know if this will hurt you."

Taking a deep breath, he felt the lyrium hum to life, glowing blue... letting his consciousness include her, the light passed to her as well. To both of their surprise the blood-magicks hold on her was severed instantly and she looked up at him with wide eyes. Without a moment to lose, he went to step through the wall that led to one of the back alleys, briefly hearing Danarius yell at his bodyguard before phasing to the other side. Letting the lyrium go, the blue glow disappeared from both of them and he started to run. He didn't have much time to put some distance between him and the tavern. If he was lucky he could find a hiding spot that the woman wouldn't find and he would still be free.

.~-~.

"Mal'dixit, Sarain, follow them," Danarius yelled furious as he rounded on her. "Do not let him get away! And make sure that damn wench he has is taken care of too."

Picking up her duster that had fallen to the floor in all the chaos, she slowly walked towards the door as she put it on and re-clasped it, not saying anything or even giving the indication that she had heard him. Frankly, she was far too pissed to even try and say anything to him that wouldn't reveal how much she loathed the man at that moment. Sometimes Danarius could be a real moron. Really... hurting her like that here and now? She was his ace in the hole, his guarantee that he would get the job done as quickly and cleanly as possible, only to throw it away on his sick amusement and force her to fix everything.

She pushed the thoughts away. It did no good thinking about it. Only made her angrier and the pain she was in would remain. Lucky for her she had learned to ignore her pain at a young age or fighting that Isabela woman and the dwarf would have been sketchy. She was having difficulty not limping as it stood, the muscles in her left leg refusing to relax. Varania healed her as best she could and tried to ease her uncooperative muscles, but she was an armature at best.

Ignoring Danarius as he yelled at no one in particular, she walked out the tavern door. She had known something like this  _could_ have happened, but she never thought he would. Sighing, she glanced at the sun that glared down at her and she shaded her eyes before looking around. She wasn't looking for him. She knew what route he would take and he was long gone. Besides, she wasn't so much looking as thinking. What she wanted was a path that would let her cut him off. A small dark smile turned her lips up, knowing just the route. Melding into shadows of another building, she started after her quarry. It was time for the hunt.

~~~~.~-~.~~~~


	3. The Hunt

\- 3 -

The Hunt

Fenris had been running with Merrill in his arms for damn near ten minutes and while he was used to exerting himself in battle for long periods of time, his body ached and his head throbbed from the attack that the she-demon hit him with. Besides, Merrill was also not helping anything as she chattered frantically like a frightened mouse. Going on and on about the woman and how it was impossible to overpower her and hit him at the same time, while also strengthening Danarius' shield. The concentration and skill... Never shutting her trap for a second so he could think further on their situation, really she only made his pounding head worse.

Tired of her constant talking and feeling he had put enough distance between them and the tavern he came to a stop and put her down, surprising himself by how gentle he was with her as he helped her sit on the ground. He may hate mages, especially blood-mages. But somehow the little witch wormed her way under his skin and made him in the least care about her wellbeing. Still, if anyone dared to point it out he would swear up and down that he really didn't care.

"... and that thing she did to Varric after doing that flip..." Merrill continued on, not noticing his glare as she stared at the ground. "It's not possible Fenris... it's just not possible."

"Yes," he sighed frustrated. "You have said that at least a hundred times now, will you shut up so I can think."

Her head came up, blinking before her big hazel eyes stayed on him. "I'm sorry... You're head must really hurt if your being this nice to me."

Without replying he turned from her, looking at where they just came. He had taken the long, out of the way route to one of Darktown's entrances, hoping in the least to buy him some time to come up with some sort of defense or plan of attack. But he was drawing a blank, his head not helping any either. He was weaponless, but a small dagger, and Merrill was no better having left her staff at the tavern as well. He wasn't even sure she had her own dagger any more. Frowning, he brought his hand up to rub his forehead only to hiss with pain when he touched another cut on his temple.

Merrill pushed back the pain and tried to stand, her knees threatening to buckle once or twice before she managed to steady herself. "Fenris, let me look at those."

Bringing his hand down, he rubbed his crimson blood between his fingers. "I'm fine."

"Do not give me that, Fenris!" she said sternly, walking by him before standing in front of him, hands on her hips. "I may have been talking... a lot. But that does not mean I did not notice all that blood or the way your eyes are dilated."

He scowled at her as she studied his face without touching. "We don't have time to be concerned with such minor things."

Merrill huffed, "What is that word I've heard some human women say?... Oh pish-posh!" she exclaimed excitedly before growing serious again. "Pish-posh, Fenris, these are not minor and not dealt with you could have some serious complications."

Rolling his eyes, he gave up trying to argue with her. "Hurry up then. I doubt Danarius' new  _plaything_  will be fooled so easily by my attempt to throw her off us."

Nodding, she went to work, casting the few minor spells of healing she knew while he kept a look out. With each second the pounding decreased and he found that he could think clearly once again, his thoughts not so jumbled up and ragged. But with this his unease grew. If this she-demon could get at any target commanded to kill then she had to be very good at strategizing. Well, obviously with all things considered. Which meant she knew he would try to reach Hawke. Even worse she would know he would take this path.

As Merrill finished, Fenris couldn't help but feel like they were being watched. His senses were in overdrive now that his head was clear, taking in every detail he could. One thing he noticed was the lack of birds or even rodents. In this part of the city you never got very far without seeing rodents. He stiffened when the alley seemed to darken slightly and he looked to Merrill to see if she noticed.

"Oh my, did a cloud pass over the su-" she started to ask as she looked above only to pause. Her voice was hushed as she met Fenris' gaze, "Was it supposed to rain today? I don't remember seeing any rain clouds..."

Trying not to act like he was looking, he glanced up to the roof tops, searching. "That's because there weren't any and I doubt this is from any cloud."

She swallowed, trying to not let her voice quiver, "Then what is this from? A really large bird perhaps?"

Before he could tell her how stupid that was a loud scrapping sound echoed in the alley and Merrill gave a little screech. Fenris shivered, recognizing it as a blade against brick. Looking down both sides of the alley... that seemed to grow increasingly dark by the second... he found he couldn't pinpoint where the sound was coming from. It was like it was coming from everywhere as it drew closer.

"F-Fenris..." Merrill stuttered.

Ignoring her tiny frightened voice and his own quickening heart he yelled, "Stop toying with us she-demon, where are you?" His only answer was the continued sound of the blade dragging.

"Fenris." Merrill shook his arm to get his attention. "She's using magick... but it doesn't feel..."

He nodded his understanding and went back to looking around, keeping alert to everything. She only proved what his lyrium tattoos told him. At first he had brushed off the small vibration as wind, but now that she said something... it certainly was magick, but nothing he had felt before. No... that wasn't true. He had felt something like this before. But where?

Merrill whispered softly, "This magick feels like Asha'belanna's... but different."

That was it! This magick he felt tickled across his skin. It was just like that old witch Hawke had freed up on the mountains. The one that saw so much... Who turned into a dragon. If this woman could do such things then they truly were as good as dead. But how? A mage and a witch? Was that possible? Then again he didn't believe true witches existed until meeting Flemeth. Magick was magick right? It didn't matter how it came all of it was evil and corrupted.  _Nothing_  good ever came from magick.

Not wanting to wait for the she-demon to finally make her move, Fenris grabbed Merrill by the arm and started to run down the alley that led them closer to Darktown and Anders' clinic. Probably just as she planned, but he didn't care... anything was better than standing there waiting for her to stop toying with them. The woman's laughter echoed off the walls and followed on their heels. The empty, hollow sound chilling him to the bone. There was no life in that laugh. It was like some soulless shell.

 _"Run... run."_  The woman whispered from what sounded like right behind him,  _"Please do run. I so do love a thrilling hunt."_  He swore he could even feel her breath on the back of his neck.

Next to him Merrill whimpered in fear as she felt the same thing. Fenris might have been right there with her if he didn't understand what the woman was trying to do. It was another ploy to intimidate them. To fall carelessly into her trap. Question was: What was her trap? Was her telling them to run an attempt to get him to stand his ground or... run more? Unfortunately, he didn't know enough about this she-demon to make any sort of guess. He didn't like being this under informed.

If it came to it, he could try to fight her... But he knew he was far too unprepared to stand a chance. Their only chance was Hawke and Anders. Perhaps Justice could give this woman some trouble. Again he couldn't believe he was thinking this. He loathed that man... and that spirit with a blinding furry, but this woman... He just knew she was far far worse. About to turn the corner into another alleyway and one step closer to help, he saw her outline standing over the entrance and came to a halt.

"Why, hello there," the woman muttered sarcastically. With this strange darkness around them, he couldn't see her face, but he knew she was really standing there. "Aren't you rather predictable?" Putting the dagger she had been using to make that noise away, she sighed, "And rather boring."

He put Merrill behind him and backed away slowly. At first he thought to just give up, beg for Merrill's life, but slowly an idea was forming in his head. With his free hand that was not holding onto the unwanted keeper he let his hand hover over the place he kept his small dagger just before turning to run in the opposite direction.

"There is no escaping me." Her voice followed them, only for her form to appear before them.

Knowing she would most likely do this, she fell into his own little trap as he swiftly grabbed his dagger and threw it at her as hard and as fast as he could with his lyrium abilities before turning again towards the entrance of Darktown. Using his markings again to give them speed and practically carrying Merrill, he reach it in almost record time and threw open the cover. Without a second though he jumped into the hole, yanking Merrill with him and fell a few yards before landing on his feet. Above he thought he could hear the woman giving chase and he started to run.

"Scamper and flee like the little mice you are, such cowardly mice." She chuckled softly, "But I must say, I didn't expect that. Perhaps this will be interesting yet."

Fenris couldn't believe this woman. It was all a game to her. Had she let them slip away from the tavern just so she could hunt them? His blood boiled with the thought. This was not a game. This was their lives and his freedom. It was  _not_  a game.

Yet, even as he thought these things, something in him stirred, awakening. It was something he couldn't fully describe because it was something he had hardly felt. It belonged more to his instinctual side. The thrill he got outsmarting his opponent in a careful played battle. The last time he truly felt it was when he first met Hawke outside the Alienage after pitting Danarius' men against her group before going after his old Master. Of course that day when he got to the estate in Hightown that the Magister had been staying in he found that Danarius had fled. In a way Fenris had lost that battle, but not completely since he still had his freedom and a certain captain he loathed was dead.

By that time, however, Fenris had finally grown tired of the chase. Or so he thought. Having to constantly live it, keeping his markings hidden and watch himself relentlessly had lost its appeal long before and he had started to slip, growing lazy with each day. Until about a year before that fateful day with Hawke he stopped bothering to try. It just seemed so pointless to cover himself up. The hunters that would take up Danarius' offers by then had guts, but they lacked any real common sense. Clearly, if they were willing to take up hunting Fenris down and try their hand at capturing him when so many had lost their lives before. The biggest problem he had with it, though, was that they were easy to outwit and not much of a challenge.

Then the night he knew would come from his carelessness, did. The inn folk had looked at him differently, not as a strange elf with markings, but something that was dangerous and he could see the guilt in the innkeeper's eyes. Fenris had hoped it was just paranoia of an escaped slave, but it was better to be safe than sorry, so he had gathered his meager possessions (basically his sword and his armor) and left. He had gone out the window of his rented room only to find his suspicions confirmed. What more was the fact that they weren't hired brainless mercenaries, but Tevinter soldiers. Not only did it make killing them easier on what little conscious he had at that point, but they were not so easy to outwit. More of a challenge.

To top it all off, the captain -a man Fenris had known well since he had been the one to almost cut the man's head off the last time they had seen each other back when he first escaped- was the leader of this squadron of soldiers. No longer had it been about money, but pride and revenge. All the better. It had made out smarting them much more exhilarating. Yet, to keep a long story short, he had escaped that night, wounding the captain and killing two of his men, but the chase began again nonetheless. And the rest they could say, was history.

Yet running through Darktown as he was just then, he couldn't help but draw comparison between the two situations. For months it had been much like the game of cat and mouse he faced now with this woman, only back then he hadn't grown used to another calling the shots. It was sickening really, how he became so chained down to Hawke and her leadership. In a way he had been freer back then. His instincts had not been lulled into a false sleep of safety by that woman's words or presence.

With his quickened pulse and senses on full alert, he now recognized was this stirring feeling was: The same excitement he had felt back then. His instincts were kindling once more. Slowly, but surely. Even so, there was still one small problem, his mind was rusty and out of shape when it came to coming up with tricks to outmaneuver someone on his own like this. Instead of this deterring him, however, he found himself more energized by the thought. It made this she-demon even more of a challenge when she was already a challenge the likes of which he had not faced before.

With these thoughts, he came to one simple conclusion: He actually enjoyed the game and with that could on some level understand the woman. She didn't so much like the hurting or killing, but the act of the game and outwitting others. It was the only thing a slave had control over. A master could order you to do something, but ultimately it was you who decided how to proceed. How to kill or harm someone... He never realized he had that option of choice before now.

This revelation and these thoughts were unnerving. He didn't like admitting that he missed the chase. Didn't like comprehending that it wasn't so much that he had grown tired of the hunt, but of the people who trailed after him and their inability to give him a decent challenge. Didn't like knowing he was still so twisted by his past that he had difficulties living his life without it. For the past six or so years he had been antsy, anxious... itching to do something, but unable to quite put his finger on it.

Whenever he was with Hawke and when she once came to visit, teaching him how to read... or simply to talk. Those feelings had seemed to quiet this anxiousness down. Become a dull trickle in the back of his mind. At those times he could almost envision a life truly free of his past and what he had lived through. But the last three years, she was no longer there to mask the jitters. He no longer found comfort in her words she had said so long ago to him as increasingly, the jitters worsened. It had only frustrated him as to why? Why could he not live his life peacefully? Why could he not settle down somewhere and just live?

Now he had his answer. That life was not exciting enough for him. It wasn't so much that he wanted to be a slave again and have someone dictate his life or his choices. He definitely did not miss that. But at least his life after escaping had been about the chase, always on the move, always busy. Never staying in one place long enough and only doing sporadic odd jobs for profit so he could have food and shelter. There was no doubt about it, this had been a hard life. Staying one step ahead of his hunters. But at least then he knew what his purpose in life was... running and besting those who dared to play the game with him. Killing one more wretched person who no doubt did horrible things.

The only reason he stayed in Kirkwall so long was (besides the somewhat exciting jobs for him to do) was due to Hawke and his attraction towards her, but after. When he truly lost her. There had been no real reason to stay. Hawke had moved on and he went on so little jobs with her anymore. Why then had he not left? If all this was true, if he did enjoy the game... Why didn't he leave? He heard the little voice in his head ask these questions, skeptical of this new realization, not wanting to believe it.

It was a voice that had only appeared after being around Hawke for a few years. All her views and words filled his head, creating this other persona that was not him. This was why. While she clearly moved on he could not because in a way she had shackled him to her like any other master would a slave. Maker's breath, he even  _still_  bore the red scarf around his wrist that she had given him, a sign of her control over him and loyalty. Floating helplessly around in this life of her morals and beliefs, trying to find a purpose that did not exist for people who had seen and lived what he had.

He stayed out of some misguided loyalty, only questioning it now when he was being chased down by his old Master's bodyguard. If she had felt anything for him. Any real loyalty or friendship. She would be by his side now trying to do everything in her power to help him. It made him speculate if she really loved him as she said she had, or had she been using him to dull the pain of being alone. The last of her family that remained living.

He gritted his teeth. His anger directed more towards Hawke than the woman chasing him. Glancing back, he could just barely see her as he turned another corridor. In a way he could only thank her, the one who made him realize the lie he had been living for so long. He went from one master to another, not even seeing it. Blind. This life wasn't his, but a half-assed attempt at the one Hawke envisioned. How could he not see it before? How had he let her shade his vision so?

No more! He wasn't going to count on the Champion of Kirkwall anymore. It was pointless. So why bother heading to the clinic now? If anything she would not lift a finger while this woman captured him right before her eyes.

The change snapped in him like taut threaded spindle yarn stretched too far. It hurt, coming to terms with all this and with the fact that Hawke could not be relied on. On the same hand, it would be a lie, if he said he didn't love her. But that love was drowned in the storming emotions that consumed him. Rage. Pain. Anger. Frustration. Betrayal. Today, the only people he learned he could count on were Isabela, Varric and Merrill. Aveline and Sebastian would have no doubt have had his back if he had all but asked... But like a fool he had counted only on Hawke and then when she turned him away he put his tail between his legs and gone alone. Now, he could only rely on himself to get out of this or in the least see to it that Merrill made it out alive.

With a cross street of Darktown before him he turned left instead of right, away from the clinic and Hawke. Away from the chains of his own making and back on the path of making his own choices and being his own keeper. In a way it felt rather liberating as he ran further and further away. He was his own person, not conflicted with Lady Hawke's pointless beliefs and views. Nothing was ever as simple as she made it sound. He should have known that.

"Um... Fenris. I believe the clinic's back that way," Merrill muttered bewildered as she let him drag her along.

"I know," he grunted as he reached out knocking over a stand someone had been selling their potions and poisons on.

Their frustrated yells followed after them as he turned down another corridor, knowing it probably did little to nothing to stop the she-demon, but the action had served as a nice diversion. He studied the poison in his hand with a small grin, having managed to grab the small bottle just as the stand started to fall. Swiftly he stashed it, not wanting his opponent to know. Fenris didn't know how he would use it, but he was, in the least, slowly forming some kind of plan in his head, the old ways and tricks of the game coming back to him.

He wondered how well she knew Kirkwall. Probably well considering all she had learned about them, but she couldn't know everything. Right? He had been here almost seven years and he still didn't know every shadow of the city. Of course he hadn't ever made it his business to search every single nick and cranny. There was also another question that could affect what he should do. What recent jobs had she been on with all of them? Had any been in some of these tunnels? He thought back to all the stories Varric told the past month. Only once did he recall the dwarf mentioning Darktown with a job pertaining the lower parts of it... It wasn't much to go on, but it wasn't like he had many options right then. Did it matter really where he took his stand? Either he was going to win or she would. And if she outsmarted him, he felt that in a way he deserved whatever happened. That was the game.

"Can you make a wall of stone behind us?" he questioned Merrill, keeping his voice low as they continued to run down another corridor. "Or bring the rocks above down?"

"I- I guess." A little winded, she gave him another confused look, before glancing back. "Where do you want me to do it?"

Fenris looked behind them, able to barely make the woman out as she turned the corner after them. And he couldn't hear her footfalls. "Doesn't matter where. Just make it as soon as possible to block that demon's path."

Nodding she closed her eyes, counting on him to make sure she didn't stumble. It was going to take a lot more concentration than normal without her staff. Not to mention how tired she was already. The magick built inside and around her and when she had collected enough she stopped suddenly to cast, the spell on her lips, reaching her hands out before her as they glowed yellow. With the last of her words the upper rocks to suddenly crumble down, bringing the upper part of the city down into the tunnel. She turned her head back to him wondering why he had her do it.

"Good..." Again he grabbed her arm and walked briskly straight through a cross section and down another tunnel, then stopped at the end that was a dead end except for the entrance to a small cavern tunnel that led out of the city and to the Wounded coast. "You should remember this tunnel from a few years ago... I want you to stand just before this walkway. When I attack her I want you to run here and get out. Understand?"

"But... what about you?" He shook his head as he turned, walking back to the cross section, leaving her no choice but to follow. "Where will you be Fenris?"

"Hiding," he stated simply. "I want you to face into the hallway you will be escaping through and talk to this little gap here to the right, talk like you always do. Make it believable so that she will think I'm just out of her sight in there."

He ignored her concerned expression, turning from her once again, searching for a hiding spot. It had to be perfect. One where he could see her coming and yet not be seen by her. One where he could leave easily if she tried to attack Merrill. That was going to be difficult. You would think for a place like this there would be many and there were, but there weren't many good ones. As he searched Merrill went about talking just like he asked, glancing every once and a while back before getting one of his stern looks. He noticed how some of the things she said were almost repeats of what she said earlier, but considering she tended to do that anyways he wasn't too worried about it.

Seconds, then minutes passed, and knew he was running out of time. Any moment the she-demon could appear at one of the other two pathways, or clear the one Merrill blocked, but that would be too obvious for her. The one thing he did gather from this woman was she didn't like doing the obvious. She liked surprising and startling people.

He wondered briefly if she knew how noticeable that really was, only to shake his head. This was not the time to be concerned over that. With this plan it didn't matter which route she took. Once he got his hiding spot he could think about it and then have his answer. But at this rate it appeared he wasn't going to even get a chance. Frustrated he glanced up and decided to search just for the sake of it. He was about to give up when he barely saw a small ledge opening a little into Merrill's escaping pathway. It was inconspicuous and checking from the three different routes the woman could take, you could not see into the tiny slot. Even he had almost missed it, would have too if he hadn't glanced up out of desperation and actually looked.

How much room was up there? The opening was small. It was going to be difficult to get in and out of. But then he could always phase out of it. Hopefully it was not really hard metal rock up there, the denser the stone the harder it was for him to phase through. Also, another problem would be getting in. It wasn't like there were any ladders around here. Putting as much space as he could from the sidewall closest to the gap, it placed him at one of the other passageway walls. Pushing off the wall he ran, flying past Merrill who squeaked in surprise. He jumped onto the sidewall closest to the opening and pushed himself off, turning slightly as he reached out for the edge, afraid he was going to miss it and land on the unwanted keeper only to grin when his fingers curled around the ledge lip.

Swinging his other hand up to further support himself, he stopped himself from exhaling in relief. This was not done yet. He still had the difficult task of getting up there.  _Then somehow knock the woman out of commission._ He blinked at the thought. Why would he only knock her out? Shouldn't he kill her? Didn't he want to kill her? She may be in the same position he was roughly ten years ago, but that did not matter. She was his enemy. He couldn't pity her...

Shaking his head and clearing the unwanted thoughts from his head, he pushed himself up with a grunt. The opening was extremely crammed, but as he managed to get onto the ledge with his forearms and upper-body, he could see inside and was pleasantly surprised to find that it was far bigger after the initial opening. Using his upper-body strength, he managed to wiggle through the small opening. Where after he was able to sit in the space, though his neck had to be painfully bent at an angle to do so and as he lay on his stomach before going back to the opening to keep watch.

Since he could neither hear nor see the woman approaching he looked sideways, curious. He couldn't see the ends of either side, even with his good eyesight. It seemed he had found himself a huge fissure of sorts in the rock, probably made from earthquakes that happened periodically. He let himself relax a little, there was nothing else to do but wait. The rest of his plan was still kind of up in the air, a work as he went kind of thing. He still had the poison. His hand went to it and pulled it out, making sure he hadn't broken it when he got up there.

Somehow he had to get a blade off her. That was the only way this poison would do any good. It had to be administered through a cut. If he did manage to catch her off guard, he then could feasibly over power her with his lyrium. She used her magick to make her stronger or rather make her hits stronger. Even so, he knew he was stronger than her still. At least he thought from what he had seen so far... Yet, it remained to be seen if she could just draw more power off him like Danarius had... Didn't matter. If he surprised her, got a weapon... hopefully one of her daggers, then kept at a reasonable distance to where she couldn't touch him, he may just stand a chance...

His thoughts quieted down when he thought he saw something flash at the end of the passage to his left. He couldn't hear a thing so he dismissed it, but continued to watch the passage. Again he saw the flash. Squinting he tried to tune Merrill out hoping it was only because of her that he couldn't hear anything, but he heard nothing. All the same, someone was definitely there. And there could only be one someone.

As the woman drew closer, he could see that the flash had been from the hilt of one of her throwing knives when she stepped just right and the duster moved away, the light would catch them. Her hood was down still, her hair up with that hair stick thing that could probably double as a weapon with how pointed it was. But as she walked silently, without much change from what he would expect her to normally walk like... It was her face that caught his eyes again.

It wasn't so empty, but still damn near close. A small smile graced her lips and there was an even smaller light in her eyes. To anyone who didn't know how to read people as well as he did, they would have missed it entirely. It added an essence to the shell he once thought soulless. It wasn't that she didn't have a soul. It was just that she hid and guarded that soul even more than he did. And in spite of being enemies and that she was in all accounts an abomination. He found himself speculating about what her story was.

Did she sell herself into slavery for her family, or just a place to sleep and food. Or did her family sell her into slavery? Or like him, was she captured against her will? Up until now he didn't even know he had a sister or a mother. He might have been one of the lucky few who didn't have to be separated from them or watch them die...

He frowned.  _Why I'm I thinking this?_  He really shouldn't feel sympathy for her, no matter what her story was. So why was he? He wasn't one to normally have this sort of problem. Merrill even commented quite frequently on his lack of pity for their people. And really he didn't have any sympathy for them. They allowed humans to rule them. Allowed them to treat them like second class garbage. Nor did he feel for the mages plight. If anything he fully agreed with the circle and the Templar's' watching over them. And he would continue to argue for it with fiery vigor full of hate and rage.

So again, why did he find himself caring here? Was it that she was so close to what he had been? Was in the same position and no doubt felt as he did? Or was it that she opened his eyes to the lie he had been living? Perhaps it could have been all these things and more, but he realized as he watched her stop and scan the area, that it was that emotionless guard she kept up. Never in his life had he seen someone act so empty before. Normally they were vacant and would care little about whether they lived or died. Or they were dead.  _Or they were tranquil..._  He hadn't seen or known many, but the two he had acted much like this. Maybe...

No. He wasn't going to argue with himself about the ethics of becoming tranquil at this moment as he tried to save himself and Merrill. In fact he would never do that, ever. They were mages. And while some where okay. Those were few and far between. Besides, he wasn't going to blow his chance at freedom on a topic Anders would be tickled to learn he was having thoughts on. The fact that this woman was a mage and one who had strange magick on top of that nullified any compassion he could... should feel for her.

He scowled as the woman stopped almost directly behind Merrill and she had yet to even notice her. The she-demon didn't attack her though, instead remained there looking with her head tilted slightly. What was she waiting for? Did she know he wasn't in that gap? More importantly, what was she doing? She turned her head, tilting it again, but this time he got a better view of her face. Her eyes were still searching, but he realized with a start that she was listening mostly. Her smile grew a little.

There was his answer. She knew he wasn't in that gap. But whether she knew he was above or not he didn't know. She didn't look up, didn't make any indication that she knew. He tried to keep his breathing steady, knowing if he held it, it would only make things worse when he had to breathe again. Why she wasn't attacking Merrill, he could not figure her out. He was certain Danarius would have given the order to kill her... So why wasn't she? Not that he wanted her to. But it still confused him. He had planned to attack her when her back was to him, going into get the unwanted keeper... but not once had she completely turned her back to him. Or even had her full attention on her. It was like she knew...

 _"I know you are watching me, Fenrehs,"_ she purred, her voice so quiet that even he had difficulties making out what she said, so it was little wonder Merrill didn't as she continued talking to thin air. And then the way she said his name. There was a clear accent that he hadn't noticed before, but never had he heard one quite like it.  _"I know you can hear me..."_  she paused briefly,  _"I am glad you finally decided to play with me, but it behooves me to tell you that no matter what you do you are leaving this tunnel with me today."_

Fenris tried not to snort out loud at that bold statement of hers. She really sounded over confident of herself. He knew he had very high odds stacked against him, but he would not give up so willingly.

_"The sooner you spring whatever trap you think you have laid for me the better for you. I will not be able to save you from Danarius' wrath, but the longer you make him wait the worse it will b-"_

Furious that she would even pretend to care, he phased through the stone and landed easily on his feet, launching himself at her and pinning her against the wall, affectively cutting off whatever she was going to say. She didn't even bat an eye, only smirked at him like a pleased cat who finally ate the songbird. Merrill, however, shrieked at the sudden movement and in her haste to move, tripped over her own feet and landed on her butt. She stared up at them wide-eyed, mind drawing a blank at what Fenris had told her to do once he had the woman distracted.

She was left there, forgotten by the two of them as Fenris took one of the she-demon's daggers from the sheaths on her belt and jumped back, lowing into a fighting stance as he glared at her. She didn't even try to stop him and he painfully knew full well that she could have because at the same time she grabbed the other one and withdrew it, patting the flat part of the blade on his side right before he could jump away. A demonstration that, while he was fast, she was faster. Most would think it would be foolish to let him get away with taking her own dagger, but understanding her a little better now, he knew she only did it for the thrill of having someone to play with. Was she as desperate as he had been to find someone who could stand against her?

They circled each other, appraising the other's defenses, looking for a way past their guard. Annoyingly, she kept tossing her blade back and forth between her hands. It was distracting, which was what she was going for. But it also made him question whether she was equally skilled with both hands. Wouldn't be much of a surprise if she was, rouges tended to be ambidextrous. Why would she be any different?  _She's a mage..._  And yet, that didn't matter, because here they were squaring off in a battle that would most likely be just weapons. He couldn't forget, however, that she was a mage. If he did she could quite easily catch him off guard with a spell.

"Why do you care about Danarius beating me longer?" he growled out as he sprung forward, aiming for her left side.

Not used to a weapon being so light he put way too much force in the swing and if she had not blocked it and turned doing a 360 before back fisting him in the side of the arm to counter it he would have probably tripped and fallen on his face. He scowled at her as she moved away from him, moving lightly from foot to foot as if she were dancing and winked.

"I can use you in my plans," she answered smoothly, before lunging.

He parried the attack and leaned in sneering, "Figures you would say that. You're just like every other mage out there. Using other's for your own gain-"

He was cut off when she grabbed his wrist and he stiffened expecting some sort of foul play. But then slid her hand down to where his own hand seized the hilt so that at least she could partly touch her own dagger and held them there for a few seconds as her hand glowed yellow briefly. He felt the weapons weight increase drastically so that it was almost as much as his own great sword would be before he realized what she was doing and jerked his arm away. Yet, the weight remained. He had forgotten that Danarius had said she could enchant weapons as well... But why would she help even the odds for him?

"What are you doing?" he snapped, growing increasingly frustrated with her. She was supposed to be his enemy but she kept helping him.

Her brow rose slightly with amusement. "Just as it looks." She then attacked, which with the dagger being heavier he was easily able to block and counter with the normal force he used. She deflected him, and smiled the irritating smirk of hers. "Besides, I doubt very much I am like any mage you have met before." She lunged forward, forcing him on the defensive, not giving him any chance to counter. "I suspect you would fail to see that given your strong abhor for mages, however."

"Oh?" he kept blocking, trying not to let her back him up against any of the walls, which was more difficult than one would think. "So you don't hurt people and use them, destroying their lives?" he said sarcastically.

Swinging the dagger he wielded downward, she took the opening and kneed him in the stomach. "Use them. But of course." She walked backwards smugly. "Hurt or destroy lives? I do try my best not to hurt anyone and unlike our  _dear_ master. I do not like what I must do or enjoy destroying lives."

Clutching his stomach, he breathed in and out slowly before gradually straightening. "A mage with a conscience? Don't make me laugh."

"Hn, Do I have a conscience?" She shrugged. "Perhaps, but does it matter? You know as well as I do that if you wish to abide in this world..." Both knowing she meant the world of the Imperium and the Magisters. "...you cannot be overly pious." Rotating her wrist, she twirled the dagger back and forth in front of her before finally stopping, and lowered into her stance. "You must bend somewhat or you will break." She sprang forward and they started back into the dance of blades, going back and forth. "I do not have to explain my reasons to you, Fenrehs. Nor would I ask you to explain yours. Because frankly, I. Don't. Care." She swung her dagger with more force each time, coinciding with the words.

With the last one, he flung her back with a lyrium blast. He was growing tired of this woman. He wanted her to argue with him. He wanted her to try and explain herself so he could bash her and knock her down a peg or two. More importantly, he wanted to get to her. All mage's were beasts in sheep clothing, trying to masquerade within the normal populace and play innocent. This  _mage_  was no different. But how could he argue with her if she didn't even try to counter his first claims? Instead ignoring them and batting them off like pesky flies.

"Next you are going to try and tell me you don't use blood-magick," he lunged after her, attacking over and over, trying to keep her on the defensive.

"I don't," she retorted swiftly and added before he could say anything, knocking him off balance with an attack that had a surprising amount of force, "Ask the da'len you are trying to protect. She is tainted with blood-magick and demon smut. I knew that the second I saw her and she can likewise tell you that I am not." Both paused in the swords-play to look at Merrill and she swallowed not liking that she was center of attention all so suddenly. "Go on da'len, for some reason he seems to trust you in spite of the taint and the sooner we get this settled the better."

Merrill stared into her jade eyes, then looked to Fenris. "She doesn't do blood-magick, Fenris. But she still has that strange magick of the witch around her."

Sarain chuckled, "It's entertaining how the ignorant and naive call someone who does magick that they don't understand or know a witch. Now..." She gave Merrill an amused look. "Weren't you supposed to be running?" Fenris stiffened as Merrill gaped at her. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this is supposed to be a diversion for you to escape, da'len?"

Merrill rose to her feet, stammering, "O-Oh... Right! S-Sorry!"

"Hurry and go. I do not wish to kill you and I can easily say you are taken care of without the spell that leashes me being evoked for disobeying given how doubtful it would be for us to meet again." She suddenly became deathly serious, making Merrill pale as her tone turned threatening, "But if I do happen to see you again in this life and you have not freed yourself from the taint you harbor, I will not hesitate to kill you. Your ignorance and stupidity will only go so far with me,  _da'len._ You should be praising the ancients that I have given you this chance to redeem yourself because I do not normally suffer the presence of a blood-mage if I can help it."

Fenris was floored by the abrupt shift and the venom he heard in her voice when just second before she had been laughing (or what one could considered laughing for her even though it sounded pretty empty to his ears) and amused with Merrill. And when her eyes narrowed more even he became a little fearful of her. Okay, a lot. He thought he knew rage, but this woman made Vengeances' seem like one of Anders' kittens he hid at the clinic. She wasn't even looking at him with those green eyes aflame with wrath, she glowed a little and the wind stirred. Never ever did he want to get on her bad side. Not to mention, he thought  _he_  hated blood-mages...

She continued, her tone not once easing up, "Further, that Eluvian is not what you believe it too be and before I leave Kirkwall tomorrow I will see to it that it is utterly destroyed and the other artifact you are using to fix the cursed thing is back with the clan where it belongs."

Merrill lost her scared little doe look and scowled. "But it's a..."

"Do not even dare to try arguing with me." Instead of yelling her tone went lower and with her anger increasing, the ground seemed to shake around her with the strong emotion. "You will not win and will only succeed in trying my patients. Now run before I decide you are better off being a smear on the ground."

While Sarain spoke, Merrill looked wide-eyed around her at the shaking earth, never once had she seen power like this. She met the woman's eyes again, realizing how idiotic she truly was. How could she forget that this woman was an arcane warrior? An art thought lost to the echoes of time. And here she was, presuming to know more than this mysterious woman about their history? She still didn't want to give up her work on the mirror though. All that time, for naught... Having her clan turn their backs on her... Again for naught. She didn't want to anger the woman further, but she had to know why. Why was the Eluvian so dangerous? That was the only thing she really wanted to know. What it did.

She licked her lips, hesitant to speak. "I-I am sorry..." Bowing her head and raising her arms as a show of respect, she continued, "It was wrong of me to think I knew more than an arcane warrior who has to know more about our history then anyone I have ever met just for being one." The ground slowly stopped shaking and Merrill took that as a very good sign. "Please... I beg you. Just tell me what it is used for. I only wanted to know our history and to learn from it and give it to our people." She snuck a glance up. The woman's anger was walled up again, her face emotionless.

Fenris blinked. Surprised by the interaction between the two and the very fact that Merrill was submitting on something she never would for anyone else. Then he looked to the woman and noticed she was eyeing him wearily, as if she wasn't sure she wanted to answer the wayward keeper's question with him there. But truthfully, he was just as curious. He didn't care much about his elven heritage, but Merrill made a very good point. This woman clearly knew history that was lost to most of Thedas.

Rain didn't like the position she was in, but yet not wanting to leave this clearly lost child hanging for fear of what she would do, she sighed, "It is for travel as most suspect, but it is the means by which one travels that is so dangerous." Merrill's big awe filled eyes urged her on, telling her that in spite of her normal misgivings about revealing so much to another. She was doing the right thing. Besides, it wasn't often she got a chance to pass the culture on to anyone. If Danarius found out that she knew more... Needless to say it would not be very good for her plans or her wellbeing.

"The mirror opens a door to the Fade where someone can pass through and travel the fade with their own corporal body until they reach another mirror. That is not so much the dangerous part, though it certainly is a risk for the person traveling to fall prey to demons and other... things." She shook her head and put her dagger away in its sheath. "No, what is most dangerous about that mirror is that in the hands of someone who does not have the knowledge or the skill to use it can open the door and set free demons and other nightmarish beings into this realm without needing a host or blood-magick to give substance."

Fenris and Merrill stared at her in shock. They thought she had known some history, but not so much to give such a precise description of what the mirror did. How much more did she know? Who was this woman? Where did she come from? There were so many more questions floating around in both of their heads they didn't know which ones to think first.

Merrill, surprisingly, was the first to find her voice, "Will... will you then take the Eluvian instead of destroying it?"

Sarain gave her a leveled look. "I have no need for it and have no way of keeping it safe. It must be destroyed." Merrill nodded, understanding, but still didn't mean she wasn't sad about it.

Forgetting that he was supposed to be fighting this woman for his freedom, he stood from his battle stance. "Who taught you all this?"

The mysterious woman looked at him then, studying him for a few seconds before turning looking back to Merrill. "Da'len, go." But the unwanted keeper frowned, wanting to know more too and was about to say as such before Sarain added, "Before the ones you call Isabela and Varric die."

Merrill closed her mouth, then opened and closed it again. Looking much like a fish, with her shock. Finally managing to say, "T-Their okay?" Sarain just gave a small nod.

Fenris glared at her as he lowered into his stance again, suddenly realizing that this woman was still his enemy. "You lie... Why would you not kill them?"

The woman turned to face him, glaring back. "As I said before, I will not explain myself to you. Know I have my reasons and you will most likely never gain the privy of hearing them." With that said she lifted her hand and as it glowed yellow, her dagger that he was holding suddenly jerked free from his hold and flew back into hers. She sheathed it quickly, not once looking away from him.

The silence stretched on and glancing between the two of them, Merrill suddenly felt uncomfortable standing there. "Um... What of Fenris?"

"Fenris has no choice in this matter. And he knows this," Bright jade and dark emerald eyes remained locked onto each other as she spoke, "With the right training he could have given me a challenge, but we both know I was only humoring him just now and entertaining myself before going back to a master neither one of us wants to go back to."

"Then don't!" she cried out with frustration.

Sarain finally looked away from Fenris to the wayward keeper, her brow raised slightly. "You are very dense."

Fenris shook his head, glancing at Merrill. "Did you hear nothing in the Tavern?"

"I-I did... but if we go to Ander-"

Fenris snapped a rough 'No', just as Sarain hissed, 'I will not see that abomination.'

Both Fenris and Merrill blinked, looking at the woman surprised to hear something Fenris would generally say come from her.

The wayward keeper started to laugh, "You sound just like him..." Sarain stared at her, brow creasing with confusion for a few heartbeats before it clicked and she looked to Fenris.

"Perhaps..." Shrugging she turned from them and pulled up her hood. "Just because the so called  _spirit_  is not tainted does not mean he should be trusted or is not dangerous. There are many stories told to me when I was younger, warning that while most know to fear the darkness, they do not know the same of light and thus fall to it in the constant war the two rage between each other in this realm and that of the Fade. They all seek the same thing, but have different means of achieving them. Keep that in mind, da'len, the next time you meet any being in the Fade."

Merrill frowned at her retreating back as the woman walked down the tunnel, then looked to Fenris who was also watching her as he slowly eased up from his stance. She liked the woman, could tell that, like Asha'belannar, she could be trusted. Though, she was certainly strange and scary at times... What was with her chasing them like that anyways? Merrill couldn't understand it... The woman also seemed rather... well... bipolar. Or maybe she was just always angry and hid it well? Mentally she shrugged at the thought, dismissing it.

She blinked, startled from her thoughts when Fenris suddenly tugged the red scarf from his wrist and tossed it at her, gritting his teeth as he said bitterly, "Give this back to Hawke. I do not need to be chained to more than one master."

With that he walked away from her and jogged to catch up to Sarain as Merrill looked down at the red fabric. Confused by what he meant by two masters she tucked it into her pocket and forgot about it as she looked back to them, hearing Fenris ask, "Where did you learn all this, she-demon?"

The woman gave a cold chuckle, "You really need to stop calling me that if you ever want to know anything ever again and if you don't I have half a mind to tell Danarius that I accidently killed you in my gleeful game."

"Hn," he snorted.

After a few moments she added, looking sideways at him, "That Varric is right... you are a really  _broody_  elf." This time when she snickered it was much lighter with amusement coloring it. "Oh and look at that glare... I must say, you got that down real well." Merrill watched as Sarain grabbed his arm and continued sarcastically, "If this keeps up you might even make me swoon."

Jerking his arm away he put distance between them, growling out, "Forget it, Witch! I don't want to know."

Merrill found herself smiling and almost unable to keep from laughing as the woman snickered again before she started to hum softly to herself. She had effectively got him off the topic as well as got him to call her something else less offensive, which was clearly her goal. Even she, the naive and inattentive elf could see that. Shaking her head she found her worry lessen a little. Of course she didn't like the thought of Fenris going back to slavery, but something told her this woman would somehow keep him safe until Hawke and the rest of the gang could come up with a way to free him.

With the thought of the others, her mind made the leap to Isabela and Varric, remembering that they were still hurt and need of care. "Elgar'nan, why am I just standing here? I need to hurry..."

.~-~.

Leana Hawke burst through the door of the HangMan, fear and guilt churning inside her gut. Truthfully, the latter had been gnawing at her since she told Fenris to quote, 'deal with your own damn sister, she is not my problem,' unquote. But the only thing that kept her from going to the tavern after him earlier and apologizing had been her own selfish, foolish pride. That and thinking everything would be alright. It was only his sister. It wasn't like Danarius was going to use her to get at Fenris or anything... And even if he had, she didn't care. She didn't love him. So why should it matter if the brooding, angry elf got his ass captured and hauled back into slavery? He was the one to hurt her! If anything she should be giving Danarius a cheese and wine basket in thanks.

There was just one problem with that. One very big problem. She  _did_  still love him. Even after what he had done to her and all this time that had passed... She still had feelings for him. For these three years she had been trying desperately to deny this fact to herself. That she wasn't in love with him. That she hadn't run head long into Anders open arms just to cover all the pain she felt. That she wasn't using him to fill the void in her heart that all the death and loss had left inside.

Everyone had seen her gradually, for the past five years, turn her back on everything she was. Everything she had once believed and stood for. All that was left was a husk full of anger and bitterness. She lashed out at every and anyone. Blaming them for her suffering. Becoming someone she didn't even recognize anymore. She made all her friends suffer... brought them down with her... made them feel her pain as if it were theirs. Burdening them. It was little wonder why any of them stayed with her.

All it took was Merrill walking into the Darktown clinic, covered in blood, barely able to catch her breath and rambling on and on about death, Fenris, and Danarius for her to realize just how much she really did have to lose. It wasn't just Fenris... but Isabela and Varric. It was her morals and her sense of right and wrong. She had been such a horrible friend to everyone. Her father, brother, sister and mother's deaths' weren't their faults. And while Fenris choose a very bad time to break her heart. She understood now, looking back... that he only needed help and understanding. That he just wasn't ready and that he was scared. And she hadn't been there for him. She had been only thinking of herself.

The smell of blood, death and the Fade crushed down on her, bringing her back to the reality of it all and forced her stomach into her throat. She covered her mouth, trying not to gage as she took in the carnage of bodies. While there were many dead bodies here that she didn't know, there were many more that she did. Everything was in shambles, no table or chair left unbroken, burn marks covered the wall and ceiling to her right. Blood was practically everywhere. It actually looked like someone exploded in there.

Hesitantly she walked in, looking for Isabela as Merrill and Anders' followed her. The small elf ran towards someone slumped over at the far wall and Hawke realized with a start that it was Isabela. Tears filled her eyes seeing her cream top stained red... There was so much blood. How could she be alive?

"Maker's breath," Anders whispered under his own breath as he took everything in. Then asked louder, "What the hell happened in here, Merrill?" Walking in further he stepped on something squishy and looked down to see what it was before his eyes widened with horror. "Did someone... get torn to pieces in here? I think I just stepped on their scalp..." He shook his foot with disgust.

"Isabela?" Merrill shook the pirate gently.

"Wha... what? Where's my boat?" she slurred before seeing Merrill and jerking fully awake. "Oh kitten!" Going to sit up she cringed when pain seized her and sat back down. "You're okay!"

She nodded. "Yup... that woman let me go. Told me she didn't want to kill me... well..." Merrill frowned. "Then she told me if I don't stop using blood-magick and dealing with demons and we ever met again she would... but I still like her. She knew about the Eluvian and told me why it was so dangerous... I know she knows more... Oh I hope I do meet her again. I want to know more."

"Kitten... breathe," Isabella chuckled softly, then groaned from the pain it caused her.

"I'm sorry... I did it again didn't I?" She pouted a little as the pirate nodded and they both glanced back at Anders' and Hawke.

Isabela frowned. "Go help Varric. He's under that pile of rocks over there. Danarius' new bodyguard said he would be fine..."

Anders and Merrill jumped to it, using magick to clear the rocks away, while Hawke just stood there looking at the blood stains on the floor. Isabela scowled, something she didn't do very often because she hated how her face looked when she did, but right then she didn't care. As far as she was concerned she was looking at the culprit to this disaster. Though maybe that was a little harsh...

"Hawke," she said sternly, "Why did you not help him? Why did you not gather the troops and stand by his side? He was supposed to be your friend... he... he trusted you even with the way you treated him... all of us really."

Leana opened her mouth. A retort to defend herself was quick to come to her tongue, ready to remind Isabela that it was Fenris that hurt her not the other way around. But she swiftly closed her mouth. Isabela was right. Fenris trusted her when he hardly trusted anyone. He counted on her to keep him safe from Danarius and instead she practically gave him to the Magister he loathed and feared so much.

As Isabela was saying those words to her, Merrill and Anders found Varric, and they just got him awake when she finished. Hearing the pirate put all the blame on Hawke made Anders' furious. As far as he was concerned the damn elf deserved what he got, hurting Hawke like that. If anything it wasn't enough. Nothing would be enough in his eyes to ever come close to repaying her.

He was about to say all this when Varric stopped him, "Cut it Blondie... She is right. While I don't like saying it, Hawke really screwed up this time."

"What is wrong with you guys!" Anders snapped angrily, "She didn't do anything wrong. How can you forget so easily what he did to-"

"They're right Anders," Hawke sighed disjointedly.

"Wait, what?"

"This is all my fault. He's a slave again, all these people are dead and you guys got hurt because of me."

"Whoa whoa, now Hawke." Varric glanced at Isabela. "Not all of this is your fault. Practically throwing Elf to the wolves yes... these deaths... no." Coughing out some rock dust he managed to stand with Merrill's help. "There is no way you would have stood a chance against that Sarain woman..."

"Sarain?" Anders frowned, unsure if he was saying it right.

"Yes. Danarius' new guard." Varric turned searching through the pile of rubble for his dear sweet Bianca as he continued, "That woman... was like poetry in action with the way she fought... though rather bloody poetry." Finding his beloved weapon, he quickly examined her to make she was alright.

Anders glanced between Isabela, Merrill and Varric. "You're telling me one woman did all this?"

"Yes." Isabela shifted. "Hurry your ass up and heal me... this really hurts now that the spell is gone."

The mage blinked confused before walking over to her. "Spell? I didn't think Merrill knew those types of spells."

"I don't..." the keeper said in a singsong voice, "But Sarain does."

Kneeling next to the pirate, he started to look her over. "Wait... this Sarain's a mage? That doesn't make any sense. She has the same weakness' as any other mage... how would she be able to protect Danarius?" Seeing that Isabela's wound was partly healed he added, "A damn good healer by the looks of it too, this is almost nothing to worry about. Danarius let her heal you?"

As he put his hand over her chest, Isabela shook her head. "No... she did it standing right there while Danarius was distracted with hurting Kitten." She pointed a foot or so away from her. " Then told me Varric would be fine and she would try to see that Merrill made it out alive as well but could not promise anything."

They all looked at her with a mix of confusion, awe and curiosity on their faces. The latter belonging to Varric as he questioned, "Why would she help us? Is she not loyal to Danarius?"

Isabela sat up after Anders finished. "I don't think so. I wouldn't want a master period, but I certainly wouldn't want one who punishes his slaves for no reason but to see them suffer and remind them who holds the leash... in this case that powerful binding blood-spell. "

He nodded. "True..."

Anders crossed his arms, his staff still in his left hand. "Okay I think I'm missing something... How could this woman take out all these people single handedly, being just a mage, heal Isabela here in what would take me at least half a day in under a minute and save all of you?"

Merrill said with awe apparent in her voice and in her expression. "She's an arcane mage Anders."

He stared at her blankly for a few seconds before saying, "Those are just legends Merrill."

Hawke finally breaking free from her stupor asked, "What's an arcane mage?"

"It-" Anders' started only to be interrupted by an excited Merrill.

"An arcane mage is a mage that uses their magick to help them fight as a warrior or rouge. They increase their speed, strength and have an arcane shield that will protect them from major hits. They can also still use the other arts, which was why, back in the day when the Dale nation still existed they were feared so, even by Magisters." Not stopping to even take a breath, she continued. "And as for your proof all you need to do is look Anders. She tore a man apart by magick and then killed the rest with her daggers and her own body. And..."

"Okay Daisy... calm down. We get it." Varric chuckled shaking his head. He looked to Anders and Hawke, becoming a little serious. "She is right. I do not know how else to explain what I saw other than this arcane warrior... thing. She toyed with six men like a cat with mice before massacring them." He shook his head. "She was out of the fight for a while after Danarius used his blood-spell on her for some sick twisted pleasure, but when Fenris got the opening to kill Danarius she slammed broody with a wall of rock, over powered Daisy's own blood-spell and fought Isabela while dodging my bolts."

Anders shook his head unbelieving. "How is someone that powerful?"

"We could become arcane warriors... She could teach us." Merrill started again and all of them but Hawke rolled their eyes. "I mean she was really scary and creepy chasing us... it was like it was a game to her. Then she was actually really nice. Then she was really scary again... even worse than Anders' scary. She was so angry she made the earth shake... It was actually kind of cool. Then she was nice again, telling Fenris and me about the Eluvian and how you can open a door to the Fade with it and walk with your own body into it then come out as yourself at another one... but then you could accidently let demons and other bad things like spirits into this realm. So I guess it's really not that good. Oh she doesn't like you by the way and by you I mean Vengeance. " She looked to Anders. "Said that everyone knows to fear demons, but don't know that spirits can be just as bad. They want the same thing but go by different... er... means. Oh and did I mention she really really hates blood-mages..."

They all stared at her. The rattled confusing sentences in a way made sense in a Merrill-ly sort of way. But what she said was just so much to absorb. The Eluvian was a door to the Fade? The woman made the earth shake with her rage? Then demons wanted the same thing? What was it they wanted? Neither Anders' nor Vengeance could answer that one. All they wanted was to see mage's freed.

"How does she know so much about us?" Hawke asked, not sure if she really wanted to know the answer.

"Get this..." Varric said fiddling with his crossbow, making sure nothing was broken. "She's been spying on us for a month and even Anders' passenger did not know."

"What?" Anders stared at him, unbelieving.

"Yup," he gave a stunned chuckle, shaking his head. "Went on a few jobs to watch us too. I'm telling you this woman was the best out there that money could possibly buy. She's a spy, an assassin and probably good at getting things from people. At least she got to some of our most trusted contacts."

Isabela slowly stood, holding her chest where the wound had been. "So what do we do now? They are probably on a boat already... anyone remember where Danarius lives?"

"We should probably inform Aveline and Sebastian," Varric muttered scratching his chin.

"I could try and contact Zevren, Leliana and that Gray Warden we had a foursome with... what was her name?" Isabela added with a lazy smile as she remembered it.

"You mean Myren?" Merrill asked, "And what's a foursome."

Isabela chuckled, "It's when you do  _you know what_... with four people, kitten."

Her eyes widened. "Four people? Wouldn't the bed be too small?"

"It was on my boat..."

Varric shook his head, smiling. "You are a really bad influence on my Daisy."

"Nah..." Isabela winked at Merrill. "I'm just teaching her life lessons." Picking up a chair that managed to survive with four legs, but no back; she sat down on it with a sigh, losing the smile. "I can try and contact the three of them and see if they will go to Tevinter for us. Do some spying and information gathering. No use heading there now when we don't know anything..."

Anders grumbled, "I can't believe you guys are considering saving him."

Isabela and Varric both glared at him, when Varric spoke sternly... which was rare for the normally happy go lucky dwarf... "He saved Daisy and he is our friend. Just because you're insecure about your relationship with Hawke does not mean you can condemn him to slavery."

Hawke blushed uncomfortably as Anders glared back at him. "I am not insecure."

Isabela and Varric both drawled, "Riiighht."

No one spoke for a couple minutes as the three glared at each other. The uncomfortable silence was finally broken by Merrill who asked suddenly, "Oh... can we save Sarain too? In a way she saved the three of us and I think she will keep Fenris safe until we save him." She shrugged. "I think she saved me from myself too. I don't like it but she's planning on destroying the Eluvian before they leave tomorrow and is going to take the artifact back to the clan. I'm not going to do blood-magick ever again... not if I ever want her to teach me how to be an arcane warrior. And though she didn't really tell me why demons and spirits were bad I believe her because she knows so much of our-"

"Whoa whoa, Kitten. Back up there a second. Repeat that," Isabela said looking at her surprised.

"I'm giving up blood-magick so that she won't kill me the next time we meet and she can hop-"

"Not that..." Isabela sighed, "Though I'm happy someone finally got through to you. The part about the Eluvian."

"Oh..." She pouted a little. "She said that she was going to destroy the mirror before they leave tomorrow and take-"

"They're still here?" Varric asked as they all stared at her hopefully... well except Anders of course.

"Well... yeah I guess they are. Isn't that what it means to say ' leave by tomorrow?' I don't understan-" Her eyes widened then, finally catching on and gave a small 'Oh'.

"Oh? Daisy... you might have just saved us a long trip to the Imperium, which after seeing Danarius and what he did to that Sarain woman, I really don't think I want to go there..." The dwarf shivered.

Isabela stood quickly, snapping her fingers. "We need to comb every inch of this city for any estate or house that seems suspicious."

"Right..." Varric stood as well, putting his beloved Bianca over his shoulder. "I' think I know where to start... It was mentioned that Sarain had killed some elites that amazingly no one has reported missing."

"Those charred bodies Aveline has been finding the past few weeks?" Anders said, eyes wide, "That was her?"

Varric nodded, "Sounded like it, all we have to do is find out which five elite families have moved away in the past month or so and such their estates."

Hawke was suddenly filled with hope that she could easily right the wrong she did to Fenris. Apologize for all the pain she caused him... Maybe he still loved her too. She glanced at Anders' then who had been watching her and suddenly felt guilty. Looking away, she remained standing there, unsure how she could help as the other's left to play their own part in hunting down Danarius and save Fenris from his horrible master. She didn't really have any contacts. At least not ones she hadn't burned with all the bitterness the last few years. Perhaps she would just walk the streets. It was certainly better than doing nothing. Silently she prayed they found him in time... Even more she hoped he would forgive her.

~~~~.~-~.~~~~


	4. Art of Conduct

\- 4 -

Art of Conduct

A minute fire crackled in the massive dining hall's black marbled fireplace at one end of the elegant room. Hissing, popping, and snapping as orange flames selfishly consumed the wood. It was the only light in the expansive room that belonged to the late Dulour family, with its earth toned mosaic floors, burnt amber walls and mahogany long dinner table that looked to sit about forty people. At that moment, however, it serviced only one. One lone woman, shoulders hunched and looking far smaller than normal to Rain as the younger elf played with her hands that rested in her lap. She would pause every now and then, stop and listen when the noises down an adjoining hallway grew from a seemingly trivial un-garnished door. Nauseatingly wicked sounds that bounced off the walls and ceiling, spreading out like a sinister whisper from a crazed murderer to his victims. Then the sounds would diminish to a low murmur, freeing the sister from their horrid enchantment on her.

Rain frowned at Varania from the entrance of another hallway across from the one the younger elf kept shooting pained tear-filled glances at. Only for her to bow her head, her thin pale fingers clenched her green gown as her brilliant red hair hung freely, covering the more pallid features of her face. She took a shaky breath in, closing her eyes as the sounds rose once more and Rain shook her head.

 _What had you expected?_  she questioned the other woman in her thoughts as she stepped further into the room and leaned against the wall.

Danarius beating Fenris was hardly a surprise and Rain thought the little sister should have steeled herself for it better...  _But she is not you,_  a voice muttered in the back of her mind and she looked to what some considered a pleasingly mosaic floor. She followed the patterns, allowing her mind to fall blank. Sometimes it was hard to remember that not everyone could become callous and unfeeling. A trait that was probably not a good one to be prideful of, but Rain was not going to question things better left alone.

Carefully she glanced at the guard-captain watching over Varania. He stood at the entrance to that offending hallway, suffocating the room with his presence as his brown gaze glared at nothing in particular. Well, that was true until he finally noticed Rain's presence and began to stare with a far darker look than before. Marking the issue in the back of her mind, she shifted, eyes going back to the fire.

The flames gave a rather drawn out hiss before starting on its snaps and crackles once more and she found that the usually relaxing sound only proved to heighten the tension and atmosphere of the room. Danarius had ordered the guard-captain to watch Varania so she did not interrupt him or do anything else that was considered downright foolish -like maybe going out to tell the Champion where Fenris was, finally realizing her folly in agreeing to anything that a Magister offered? That was a stretch though. Rain knew the younger woman would not do anything to jeopardize her mother's safety back home. But one never knew the lapses in judgment others had when they were depressed or overly emotional as the younger elf was now. And while Rain could not really understand how anyone could make an illogical emotional choice like that (given she had but two states of being: rage and emptiness), she could see how difficult it would be on someone who was prone to these sentiments. She was not blind. She saw love everyday and all around her. Also saw when it got crushed by life. But it was hard to truly grasp something so alien to her.

When first joining the ranks of Danarius' slaves, Rain did not even know how she should  _be_  around them. Back with Devius, she had little to no contact with the household slaves. So she had at first been nothing more than a blank moving statue, someone they hardly, if ever, noticed. As time passed, however, and she became familiar, recognizing every single one of them, she found herself taking care of them, protecting them, taking their faults and beatings.

That was how the first shift in the household happened. While most if not all of Danarius' slaves had been loyal to him to a fault, no creature liked being hurt. Yet, it was not until the bout of an abnormally harsh beating she had taken in the stead of one of the more elder women slaves -a beating that left her defenseless and semi-unconscious on the floor- that things started to truly change. After their master left, a group of them came to her, helped her. Since then Rain slowly but surely gained an asset she never knew was possible: the collective devotion and trust of Danarius' slaves. No longer were they fully blind to their wretched lives or what those lives could be.

With the passing years, Rain took these new pawns, introducing them to new thoughts and gradually throwing the curtains open to the world that lay outside. No more did they serve Danarius with the warped loyalty of a dog, but for their own self preservation. Waiting until the day would come when no more would they have to pretend they were one man's objects. And when times grew too hard to bear they worked for her, the replacement slave over-looker after the previous ones' unfortunate deaths (all of which had been  _accidental_  of course), all of the slaves knowing she would be there for them.

Rain didn't care about them. So depending on her so blindly was foolish in her opinion. And yet, the thought of them being hurt displeased her in a way she couldn't explain. They still, in the end, were mere pawns in her game. Pieces she could and did use against Danarius. Since becoming their handler, his households' efficiency had increased threefold, making him depend on her for more than just protection. This increased productivity was an overwhelming example of how hope, not fear, earned true loyalty and respect, and also pushed them to work harder.

A loud snap from the fire drew Rain from these thoughts, and she looked to Varania. While she had not known the younger woman long, she was starting to earn the same devotion from her as she had from the slaves and even some of the guards. It was easier to gain such things from people, now that Rain knew how to act. Just like she knew exactly how to perform to draw a man's lust or focus someone's attention on what she wanted when she wanted it. She could ben people to her will without them even realizing what was happening.

She glanced at the guard-captain, finding his dark hooded gaze on her still.  _Well most of them never realized._  When first hearing of this mission she had worried about him and his time away from her... charms. He was one out of a handful that the other, more pleasing route of gaining their obedience through acted kindness and  _friendship_  would not work on. Which only left seduction. Having him angry with her, probably finding out from another one of his men who she had used the same technique on, wasn't detrimental to her goals so much as problematic. It was difficult to reestablish her control when such occurrences happened, but she had done it before.

Whether or not he would be such a case was not the problem for she was not concerned with his controllability. No, this one had seen things. Things that would make Danarius suspicious of her. And while she had plans in place if he ever did learn, she would rather he did not.

Putting an even bigger mark next to his name, she let the thoughts go for now. She had other things to deal with before she could fix that, namely the elf sitting at the table. Pushing from the wall, she walked to Varania and pulled out a chair next to her, purposely letting the legs scrap against the floor. The younger woman was startled out of her thoughts with the cringing sound. She flattened the hem of her green dress to look up at Rain with those equally green eyes that matched her brother's. A feature, Rain noted, that made her uncomfortable, seeing how alike they were to his.

"Do not cry, little Rua," she whispered, keeping her voice low so the other occupant of the room could not hear, "You need not let Danarius see you so weak."

"How do you do it?" Varania shook her head. "You are always so calm a-and..." Her gaze dropped to her lap, voice trailing off.

She sniffled, and Rain frowned at her before reaching out, touching one of the young woman's hands that still lay on her lap. "Look at me, Rua." At the Dalish nickname, she did, and Rain willed her magick to her, weaving a spell to relax and eventually allow her to sleep. "You have to separate yourself from everything, little Rua, only then can you do as I. But I am not asking you to do such a thing... wait, behind closed doors to do this."

"But..." she muttered as her body relaxed and she felt the exhaustion of the day setting in. "It's so hard, hearing it..."

Rain gave her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Yes, but soon things will calm down. Danarius will lose interest eventually and you will fall into your role as apprentice. Moreover, how was your mother doing before you left? Recovering, right?" Varania nodded. "Soon you will have her again and will not be alone anymore. Keep these knowledge's close and you will be fine."

She continued to nod, understanding shifting in her green eyes, lightening her pain with the worry for her brother remaining. Bringing the back of her hand up to her mouth, she yawned, giving a tight smile. "Thank you, Rain. You always say the right thing..." she said as she rested her head on her propped up arm on the table. "How is that?"

"Logical presumptions, Rua," Rain replied as the younger woman's eyes started to flutter, "Now get some rest. These next few days will not get any better for you."

"Hmm..." Varania managed to mumble after her eyes closed completely, unable to fight the spell.

When her body completely relaxed, Rain caught her head before it hit the table and set it down gently before spending the next few seconds watching the other woman slumber, a small sad smile finding a way to her lips. She shook her head and stood a minute or two later from the table and looked to the guard-captain.

"Your task would be easier if you took her upstairs to one of the rooms and found a chair, Hastian. You look haggard."

He had stepped from the wall, looming towards her. "We need to talk." Giving his massive, bulky form a quick appraisal as he came to a stop before her, Rain took in his taut muscles and fists clenched at his sides and decided to keep up the role she had made for him.

Playing innocent, she schooled her face becoming confused and worried as she reached up and fingers trailed down his face. "What is wrong, love?"

"Don't  _love_  me, Rain," he snapped, grabbing her hand and crushing it in his grasp. "I have come to hear a few insalubrious things about you during your absence..."

Wincing from his hold, she appeared shaken and startled as her voice trembled, "Y-Your hurting me, Hastian." She jerked her hand away, rubbing as she looked up at him tearfully and backed away from him.

He gave a dark sneering grunt, "A whore like you should be used to it by now."

Flushing, she let anger color her words as her voice grew more forceful, "I have not done anything to warrant this and I can for certain say anything you may have heard about me is not  _the_  truth." She glared at him with the full amount of hatred she harbored within, forcing him to freeze momentarily. The fire crackled behind him, adding its own angry voice to hers as she said, "I thought you were different, and if you do not have something more than hurtful accusations to say to me then consider this conversation over." She turned swiftly, hair flipping behind her.

"Where do you think you're going!" his voice rose, "I'm not don-"

She cut him off without looking back, "Well, I am done talking to you and unless you want to tell Danarius the reason why the Champion of Kirkwall found this place was due to  _your_ insecurities, then go ahead and stop me."

His eyes widened slightly with fear before he scowled at her retreating back. "Run now, Rain, but this... this is not over." Grumbling obscenities, he turned and looked at Varania. Noticing how low the hissing fire was, he stomped over to it, grabbed a log from the small pile of wood and tossed it on. The hungry flames only snapped and hissed more.

Rain reached the end of the hallway, the door slammed purposely behind her as she went into the small greeting room and then exited the estate in Hightown. She took a few minutes, leaning against the door to calm herself and continued to rub her hand as she frowned at the night street covered in the cloak of darkness and mind was reeling, trying to figure out what ways this would come into play later.  _Hastian is a coward. He would not dare try anything too open._  Of course the more intelligent man would not, but Hastian while not a dimwit was ruled -like many- by his emotions. She shook her head, letting the thought go to the back of her mind as she pulled her hood up and disappeared into the night. She had other things to handle that were more important, the guard-captain could wait.

.~-~.

Hawke sat on Merrill's bed in the ex-apprentice keeper's run down house across from the creepy looking mirror and tried not to look at it as she wallowed in her misery about Fenris. Something that was proving futile at best given the shadowy mirror with menacing carvings had this presence that simply couldn't (or shouldn't) be ignored. There was something sinister about the way it sat there in the corner to her right, reflecting nothing. As well as the way it absorbed what little light the small flickering candle gave to the cold room.

Shifting so that she sat sideways to the mirror and knees drawn up to her chest, she looked out the doorway of the bedroom and into the greeting room where Merrill was currently flittering about, trying to clean as well as chase the rats from her house. She tucked a stray black hair from her pony-tail as she watched her Dalish friend stumble and she trip over her own feet. Hawke felt the corner of her lip twitch, wanting to smile, but then stopped herself as she sank back into her depressed thoughts. The ditsy elf said she didn't want it to be messy for when the other's got there, but Leana suspected it was Merrill's excitement at the prospect of seeing this mysterious woman again that had her so fidgety and antsy, something that honestly didn't make Leana feel any better as she sat there looking ever more like a child.

In no way did she want to meet  _this_  Sarain, and whenever  _she_  was brought up that day (which was often given the mysterious woman's role in this), the Champion found this out of place frustration grow. Everyone already spoke as if  _this_  woman was their savior. That  _she_  was simply a woman caught up in misfortune. Or that  _she_  would somehow help them save Fenris, the possibility unlikely even if they could figure out how to free _her_. It was her bizarre out of place beauty. It was her strange powerful magick. It was her grace in fighting...  _'like she was dancing,'_ Isabela had said with this awe in her golden eyes. Gritting her teeth, Hawke rested her chin on her knees. Why couldn't they see that  _this_  woman was the enemy? They knew nothing about her. Nothing at all. On top of all this, Fenris was captured because of  _her_ -

Shadows shifted in the room and thinking she had seen a movement in her peripheral vision, she looked at the intimidating mirror. Her blue eyes examined the area around it first, then the mirror. Upon finding nothing out of place (seeing as it still reflected nothing), she faced her head forward, resting her chin again on her knees. It was probably the storm she had seen in the distance an hour or so ago while walking to Merrill's place, but nevertheless her gaze kept drifting to the dark mirror as her thoughts went back to the conflict inside her. Okay, so maybe it wasn't this mysterious woman's fault, but why couldn't they (they being Isabela, Varric, and Merrill) see that this woman was Fenris' chain to Danarius? By their accounts, without  _her_  they might have been able to overpower Danarius and kill him. Now they were talking about  _her_  as if they respected  _her_  and worshiped  _her_? It was exasperating!

"... No this doesn't go here... it goes over there!" Merrill's cheerful voice echoed to Hawke and she looked at her odd Dalish friend who was holding a book that she had found laying under a pile of clothes and other knit-knacks.

Probably the greatest difficulty Leana had with all this was how outwardly happy everyone was sometimes. Sure, there was this sense of urgency and concern, but none of them appeared to be that overly worried about Fenris' safety or about  _not_  getting him back. If anything they were worried about Hawke. Varric and Isabela were positively certain they would find this estate with the other's help and that Anders would find a solution in his books to Sarain's problem. That everything would turn out all right. And if not they believed this woman would take care of him until they could. Maybe it was due to her latest outlook on life that had lasted these past three years, but not everything turned out alright. Bad things happened. And sometimes there was no way to fix them.

With her thoughts traveling uncomfortably close to her parents and siblings, she sighed and closed her eyes. A few tears escaping to trail down her cheeks as the wind outside rattled the tattered roof.  _What if I don't get to make things right with Fenris?_  That truly was her biggest fear. She wasn't delusional. She knew she couldn't apologize and everything would miraculously be okay. She also knew that she couldn't simply brush Anders off if the broody elf did happen to take her back for she did love him too. But she loved Fenris first... Her head and heart hurt as the conflicting thoughts and emotions raged a war inside.

Keeping her eyes closed, she wiped the tears away before hugging her legs tightly. _Why does everything have to be so difficult?_

But all of this was  _if_  she ever freed him. Seeing as the sun had fallen over the horizon three hours ago and she hadn't heard anything from the others, the taut ball of tension inside of her spun around more and more, threatening to snap.  _What is Danarius doing to him now? What if he kills Fenris? What if we are too late? What if... if he dies?_

 _"Use me..."_  a seductive voice came to her, freezing her thoughts and blood cold.

Hawke's eyes snapped open as she looked around the room, swearing she had heard someone whispering. With Merrill still busy in the greeting room, there was no one else there. Her gaze fell again on the mirror as she straightened.  _Odd..._ Did she just see something reflect in the normally dark empty looking-glass? If what this Sarain said was true, that the mirror was a gateway to the Fade... This could be a demon talking to her.

Slowly she stood from the bed, staring at the looking-glass with a pale knowing look. Ever since Merrill had shown her the thing, Hawke had feared it. Some part her she had been keeping dormant all this time knew that it was dangerous. As a child, like her sister and father she had been cursed with magick. Or at least  _she_  had been cursed, given a magick that was uncontrollable as it was deadly. Having seen the destruction her magick caused, the pain and the difficulties it brought for her family, she turned her back on it, ashamed. She had stopped using shortly after her father taught her the basics (she still believed his untimely death was due to her failures and her uncontrollable magick).

She  _was_ a rogue.

Nothing more. And it was something none of her friends knew or would know. Never would they learn of the dark secret she harbored. It wasn't that she didn't trust them, but Hawke wanted  _nothing_  to do with her destructive magick. And she knew once he learned, Anders would try and teach her again, try and help her control it. It had been a difficult ability to control in the beginning, now any control was lost to her. There was no way she could harness her magick without hurting those around her...

But...

But if they failed to save Fenris in time and he became lost to the Imperium would she use this gateway to the Fade to save him? Would she freely deal with a demon to save him? Would she go against all that her father had taught her... all that she was and use her destructive magick again? Just to save the first man she truly loved?

Leana couldn't remember taking the steps, but suddenly found herself before the non-reflecting mirror. Only she could see herself in the looking-glass this time. Black hair swept up. Pale face. Dry tear smudges. Wearing the loose underclothes beneath her armor. Here she was, the Champion of Kirkwall standing in all of her glory.  _How frail and pitiful._ The lone whisper had grown to a multitude of voices in her head, calling out to her, whirling around in her thoughts and mind. Almost embracing her. She could see herself reaching out for the mirror as if to caress it. And with a frightening certainty she knew that if she wanted to she could use it. Activate this mirror where Merrill had failed.

Voices suddenly grew from the greeting room and a slamming door drew Hawke out of the trance. She turned to peek over her shoulder briefly, finding Isabela, Sebastian, and Aveline with Merrill before gazing back at the mirror, finding that once again nothing reflected in the looking-glass. Taking a startled step back, realizing where her thoughts had been, she shivered. Had she really seen herself and heard those whispers? Or had they been in her head? The fantasy of hope.

Leana shook her head, leaving the mirror and the room to learn of what the others had found. However, when she entered the sopping wet trio fell silent, all of them refusing to look at her. She felt her heart sink into her gut. It was nearing the middle of the night. If they didn't find something before the sun rose...

She swallowed, letting her fears dissipate from the front of her mind as she put on a brave commanding face and stated blankly, "You didn't find anything. Not surprising if she has been following us for a month and none of us realized it."

Aveline finished shaking her cloak out as she glanced at Isabela. Then tossing it on the hook she took a step towards Leana, reaching out. "Hawke, you don't have to-"

"I'm okay, Aveline," Leana shook her head, frowning at her unsure look as the red-head stopped. "Seriously. Varric still isn't back. He could hav..."

Isabela sighed and ringed out her hair. "We've been working with him all night, sweetie. We found two of the five estates, searched them, but no one was there."

"It was spotless," Aveline remarked, folding her arms as she shifted, "Too spotless."

Sebastian nodded, his brogue strong with his concern for the broody elf he had befriended. "Not a single clue either. I thought for certain there had to be something we could use... even your Mabari had no scent to catch." The way he looked at her with those blue eyes was making her throat constrict and she looked away. "She's with Varric now."

"It will be alright, guys," Merrill said all too cheerfully, "Sarain will help him even if we-"

"Not now, Kitten," Isabela muttered as everyone (but the Dalish elf) saw Hawke's pained look before she turned from them. She walked to the small table as she calmed herself and tried to remain strong and hopeful. The pirate stepped after her, following her to the table as she spoke more clearly, "Varric thought he could try a few more contacts, but we are running out of time. I'm not saying give up hope, sweetie... but..." Her voice trailed off.

"It doesn't look good," Hawke finished for her, finally schooling her features to behave before she sat down and took them all in. Their rugged wet appearances made her heart clench. Everyone was trying so hard to find him and here she was moping about. Even Anders (while reluctant) was doing his part. It made her want to do something, but what could she do? "I understand, Isabela. I also understand that you have contacts outside of Kirkwall that could help us if it came to that..."

The pirate nodded her head, sitting in the second of two chairs beside the small table. "I do. Zevren is an ex-crow, you met Leliana, and Myren, the Hero of Ferelden, I have heard is traveling the world and staying hidden looking for jobs that are practically suicidal." She brushed her sticky brown hair behind her shoulders as she quickly muttered, "Something I don't fault her for given what happened..."

Isabela shook her head, golden gaze falling on Hawke again as she studied her with concern. "I can try to get a hold of them, of course Hawke, but tracking them down will take some time. Leliana won't be that hard, but Zevren and Myren could be anywhere. I may have to leave..."

Hawke sighed glancing at the puddles by the door. "Whatever we have to do we will do it until he is free. I can't live knowing that I- that he is living such a horrible life. That he is a... a slave..."

They all agreed with solemn nods before settling in, finding places on the floor to sit (in Merrill's case) or leaning against the wall. Isabela told Hawke and Merrill of the first two estates, how they found them and the events leading up to searching them with little interruptions here and there from Aveline and Sebastian. Then Aveline brought up the disfigured bodies that had been turning up. What she had learned about those as well as what Sebastian knew about them from the Chantry. Meredith had been keeping everything hush, hush, but it seemed these murders had frightened her and the mage captors to their cores. Of course Meredith being so high strung about mages as it was, these new occurrences didn't help the conflict currently brewing in Kirkwall any.

"Will she blame the deaths on the mages?" Hawke asked when the conversation finally lulled and all that could be heard was their still dripping cloaks hanging by the door. She needed to know even if she was tired of the conflict and just wished both sides would find some sort of peaceful agreement.

Sebastian had been fiddling with his bow string, but stopped to answer her, "She wants to probably, but it is unlikely, Hawke. I heard whispers in the Chantry that the magick used wasn't normal... or at least they had no way of detecting the magick used so they said it wasn't normal. Ya know, just to keep the threat there. It can go either way really."

Leana looked down at the table, thinking all this out in her head as she studied the worn grains of the table marred with scratches. "You're right... with no proof of magick she can't blame them. But that's never stopped her." She tapped her finger to her chin. "As for the bodies how is that possible? By Aveline's accounts it was clearly done by magick..."

"Sarain is a witch... It was amazing what she could do, making the sun darken an-"

Hawke held her hand up at the bubbly Merrill and cut her off softly, "Yes, you have told us that, Merrill... But how can magick exist without the Fade?" The elf shrugged innocently and the Champion covered her eyes with her hand, resting against it.

With no one knowing the answer to that question, the room fell silent as the storm outside grew, each one lost in their own thoughts that in some part dealt with the issue of Fenris. Seconds then minutes passed with no one uttering a word or moving until one of the candles in the room flickered radically before going out. Hawke's gaze went to it, finding no reason for it to suddenly be extinguished, only to notice that the bedroom's lone candle had gone out as well. It just so happened that the other candle that had gone out in the room they all sat in had been closest to the bedroom door. She frowned at her misgiving thoughts of the mirror as Merrill got up, muttering to herself about drafts as she relit it with her magick before turning back to them.

"I-" the elf started, only to shake her head with a frown.

"What is it, Kitten?" Isabela asked, pushing.

Merrill fidgeted as she looked at her feet. "There are these stories... old tales that I always thought were told merely to make us Dalish children proud of our heritage or make us curious." She shook her head. "None of them except Asha'bellanar were ever proved true. Well, except for..."

As her voice trailed off Hawke found herself finishing someone sentence again, "Sarain... and this arcane warrior ability. What else is there?"

"A world of wonder and of things that can't be explained like Asha'bellanar and her shifting abilities. Of magick older than the Fade and stronger too." Merrill looked up to them and held an awe filled expression at the simple idea that the tales could be true. "If an arcane warrior is real can a magick older than the dream realm exist?" She started back for the place she had been sitting and muttered things to herself in Dalish before continuing, "Elgar'nan, I can't explain it, but there are tales of such magick, Lethallan. How else was Fen'Harel able to seal the good gods into heaven and the evil lords in the abyss?"

The ex-apprentice keeper had just sat down, falling silent to her own dreaming thoughts when the door flew open and they all jumped to their feet from the start of it. A hooded figure hurried through the open door with the wind lashing behind him, blowing all the candles out and making the door thump into the wall. As lightning lit up the dark churning sky, they found the figure fighting the harsh wind with one hand as he closed the door. With it finally closed, he huffed turning to them and seeing that the room was dark called forth a small fire ball to lighten the room.

"Why are you sitting in the dark?" Anders mumbled from under the hood, the flame kindling in his hand reflecting up into his face as he stood there, holding something in his left arm under his cloak.

"We weren't until you showed," Sebastian commented on dryly.

Merrill moved, going to light each candle once more as Anders let the fire ball die out and unclasped his cloak before hanging it with the rest, revealing the monstrous book in his arm. "Oh, sorry..." When he looked back seeing their hopeful looks he shook his head and frowned. "No, I haven't found anything. At least not yet, but I do have a book that might be helpful. I thought I would come over here and see what was going on."

As he shifted the book lower, a certain wiggling mass that had been hidden beneath it and in his robes made its presence known. They all gaped at him as a white head popped out from the fabric, big green eyes staring at them with fright. Little pointed ears shifted this way and that, keen to any sound. Thunder sounded above the Alienage house and it disappeared back into Anders robes.

"Uh, what is that?" Hawke asked, unable to tell what the wet white mass was now that it was hidden.

Going to the table he set down the book before her. "Oh, I found this little cat on my way here. Poor thing was caught out in the storm, I couldn't let it suffer outside, but I was already too far away from the clinic to take it back..." Struggling momentarily with what would later make themselves known as claws getting caught in the fabric of his robes, he pulled out a mewing, shaking cat that looked to almost be a kitten it was so small.

Merrill gasped with joy, going over to him and letting the scared cat hesitantly smell her hand. "Ahhh, it's a kitty! Let me go get a blanket to dry her." She rushed out of the room, making noises as she tripped over things in the dark bedroom and muttering about the candle going out before returning with a dark blue blanket.

"How do you know it's a she, Merrill?" Anders frowned, "Not that I don't like girl cats, but this one feels more mal- Ouch!"

The white cat bit him before hissing and practically jumped into Merrill's awaiting arms. Anders pouted as he held his hurt hand and the resulting look caused Sebastian to chuckle, "Guess that settles that."

A comment that made the ditsy elf beam and the other women in the room join in the small laugh at Anders expense. Even Hawke was so startled by the sudden appearance of this soaking rag of fur that she felt herself join them before realizing it and coughed. With that sound the other's chuckles trailed off and the dark mood settled over them again as they all shifted uncomfortably with the only sound being the wind and thunder outside.

Isabela stood, moving to be with Merrill and the cat that had snuggled warmly in the blanket so that Anders could sit next to Hawke. As the pirate moved and the mage sat down, the Champion fingered the book. "What's so special about this book? It looks like it's about to fall apart?"

Anders lifted one shoulder as he healed his wound on his hand. "It's the last one in my collection that might have blood-magick in it..." Then turned to the book and pulled it closer with disgust. "I don't make a habit out of reading that kind of stuff, Leana."

"Sorry... I didn't mean..." her voice trailed off and he scowled at the book.

"No, it's okay. I'm just grumpy I have to do this for that blasted elf... that's all." Seeing the look on her face, he added, "But I'll do anything for you, Leana. And... I have been thinking, while annoying and thick-headed the broody jerk never turned me in when he could have. He doesn't deserve this..."

Isabela stopped using her hair to irritate the cat and gave him a wide-eyed look. "Did I just hear correctly? Anders admitting Fenris wasn't  _that_  bad? Wait 'til Varric hears this!"

He shot her a sour look, but Aveline and Sebastian joined in with their own pestering comments. Not letting him brush it off easily. Hawke was only partly listening. Her thoughts conflicted again as she watched the white cat sitting in Merrill's lap simply licking her fluffing fur. One... two... three on her right paw. One... two... three on her shoulder. One... two... three on her other paw. Three licks for every place. It was so meticulous. And yet all Hawke could think was,  _Isabela said wasn't..._   _She said..._

Something about the 'was' and not 'is' in that statement made her heart ache.

"Ah no!" Fortunately for her, Merrill's sudden cry stopped that line of thinking as Hawke blinked to focus her eyes. "Little Miss Fluffikins is hurt." Indeed, when Leana actually was looking she found that the cat was limping on three legs, her hind right leg curled up protectively.

Anders scowled at the elf and pirate. "Now I wonder where she got that name... You're seriously not going to call her that, are you?"

Isabela smirked back, mischief glinting in her eyes as she helped Merrill hold the cat down. "Ya bet'cha. Or do you have issues calling a  _pussy-cat_  Fluffikins." The apostate mage opened his mouth then thought better about it and closed it, shaking his head as he went back to reading his book. She shifted her chest out a little, smug. "That's what I thought."

Sebastian and Aveline exchanged glances, confused and certain they had missed something. When no one clarified the guard-captain finally spoke her question, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing," Anders grumbled as he ignored Isabela's cocky smile still pointed in his direction.

Hawke sighed, recalling her lover's confession when they first started to be more than friends, a story about a certain wayward mage on the run and a flirty pirate captain back in Ferelden long before Kirkwall. She thought about telling the two of them about the inside joke Isabela was referring to, but changed her mind. Instead she watched as Isabela forced poor Miss Fluffikins to stop squirming by practically laying on her as Merrill felt the hind leg for damage. All the while the cat growled and hissed at them.

"Hmmm, doesn't feel broken, Miss Fluffikins..." Merrill started gathering magick to her, the tips of her fingers glowing green. "If anything it feels like someone zapped you with a lightning bolt... I only know because I accidently did it to myself once, you know?" she continued to chatter happily to the cat who had finally given up on escape from the two of them, but her tail hit the floor angrily, "The muscles in my arm wouldn't relax it was so tense and even after healing it I felt the tingles there for weeks after every time I went to grab my staff... Or eat... Or do anything with it really..." She paused in her healing of the leg, gasping, "Oh, but who would do that to you? A poor defenseless kitty!" Miss Fluffikins growled, trying to kick her hurt limb free from the elf's hold. "Ops, sorry... let's finish this."

The green glow encircled the whole hind leg, magick seeping into the strained muscle and easing the tension. Feeling the cat relax, Isabela got up, cooing at her as she scratched her head, saying  _'Who's a good kitty? You're a good kitty.'_ over and over earning more disgusted and probably mostly jealous looks from Anders. As the green glow, however, started creeping up past the hip and stretching further over the cat's body, the pirate stopped, giving her friend a questioning look. Whereas Merrill had been smiling before, she now wore a puzzled frown as she concentrated on the cat and her magick, not noticing anything else around her.

"What is it, Kitten?"

Startled from her thoughts and concentration on her magick, the green glow ceased and she blinked looking up. "Oh... nothing." Then added so softly none of them could really hear what she said, "The tension only stretched a little further than the leg."

Freed from Isabela's manhandling and Merrill's magick, Miss Fluffikins got up and happily stretched as she arched her back up and down before stretching her hind legs out behind her. She then sat. Her vivid green eyes on Hawke, unblinking. The almost deep profound look (coming from a cat of all beings) unnerved Leana. It was as if the cat knew something. But then like the mirror she was most likely just imagining this, tired from the long day. She couldn't look away, however, and as everyone else started to talk or move about, she found her thoughts stilling. No longer conflicting. The first time since learning what had happened. Even when the cat was forced to look away as Isabela and Merrill started to play with her, Hawke couldn't take her eyes off the white cat.

Leana didn't know how long ago that had been as she found herself stirring to consciousness, head resting on her arm that lay on the table, eyes barely open and almost closing again. It was as if she had fallen asleep, but now discovered that her eyes were indeed open, taking in the darker room as time trickled by.  _Am I dreaming?_  Was she in the Fade? It almost felt like that sluggish -walking through water- feeling... She looked around the room, only faintly taking in everyone's sleeping figures. Aveline and Sebastian had fallen asleep where they had sat, heads bowed over their chests. Anders head rested in his arms, snoring lightly as he covered the book he was supposed to be reading. Then in the far corner Isabela leaned against the wall, arm draped over Merrill whose head was in her lap.

Someone was missing.

Who? Hawke couldn't rightfully say. By all accounts the friends that had been there before she fell asleep were still here, but...

A white mass pranced back into the room.  _No..._  It wasn't just a white mass of the cat. A figure was there, standing where the cat stood. It was as if she were seeing two images over one. Miss Fluffikins tipped her head, as if glancing up at the second shadowy image. Or perhaps her green eyes were on Hawke? Both images went towards Merrill, reaching into the elf's pocket and pulled out a scarf that seemed familiar to Hawke in a way that made her ill. Then confusing her furthermore, the two images deviated as the dark figure left, going back into the bedroom and the white cat carrying the red scarf trotted her way towards Leana. She felt the pressure of the cat's front paws touch her leg. Seconds later the white cat returned to her line of sight, no longer carrying the red scarf as she too disappeared back into the bedroom.

The whole time Hawke tried to wake herself more, tried to move, to do anything, but found herself frozen where she sat. Something was wrong with this. Her hidden and buried magick seeing through to the truth. But why couldn't she just wake up? She needed to. She knew that with all her being. That this... whatever just happened was important and that she was missing her chance to help Fenris.

_I._

_Must._

_Save._

_Him._

Willing herself to move, her fingers twitched in response. Then her arm. It slid out from under her head and fell from the table, hitting her knees. Something soft, delicate that lay on her lap brushed against her forearm. Leana pulled her arm up, feeling as if massive weights hung from her wrist. Even so, she managed to get her hand into her lap and grasped the material, realizing in her mind that it was the red scarf. She concentrated on her head, forcing her neck muscles to move every-so-slightly along with her hand so she could see what she held.

When her eyes finally did settle on the red fabric she held before her, it felt like she had jumped into a freezing lake as she took in her family crest on the scarf that she had given to only one man. She sat up suddenly, hand shaking as she looked from it to the room. The candles were two inches lower than before and everyone was asleep... something that wouldn't have happened normally given the circumstances. One of them would have stayed awake, no matter what. So what happened?

 _The cat..._  she mused, feeling the lingering effects of a spell, _was not just a cat._  But how? No, what mattered was the why. Why would someone put a spell on a cat and make them all sleep?

 _The mirror!_  Hawke bolted to her feet, rushing to the bedroom doorway with the scarf still in hand.

In the faint glow of the candles from the main room, the empty corner greeted her. Heart thumping in her chest, her eyes examined the room, looking for any clues as to how the woman got the mirror out, but only found the light tapping of the small window above the bed. Hastily, she rushed to the table beside the bed, grabbing her daggers and fumbling with the straps as she buckled them to her back. Then picking up the red scarf she had dropped, she ran from the room, to the main door and out into the storm.

She let the door swing open behind her, uncaring if the others awakened, even though she knew the possibility that they would was unlikely given they were still under the effects of the spell. Taking a few steps into the square, she turned around completely. Searching. Knowing that the woman couldn't be far. Or more like hoping. Finding nothing in the flashing lights in the sky, she called out to her, screaming as she tried to out yell the storm. But as the minutes passed and she started to believe she was alone, that she had lost the only lead to Fenris, she started to sob.

Drenched by the harsh pelting rain, she fell to her knees, holding the red scarf out before her, but was unable to see much more than a dark red blur through tear-filled eyes. "Damnit, I know you're out there!" But the words had lost their steam (for she hardly believed them herself), becoming nothing more than a whisper in comparison to the raging storm.

"You do not have to be so sensational, Champion of Kirkwall."

Hawke's head snapped up, hearing the alluring voice as if it were spoken right next to her even though that was impossible. Rising to her feet, she held her hand before her eyes, blocking the rain and wind as she searched more carefully for the woman.

Finding nothing again, she gritted her teeth and clenched the scarf to her chest. "Where are you?"

A shadow moved from above, perched on the branch of the Alienage's tree before silently and effortlessly jumping down before Hawke. Leana hesitated, suddenly afraid of being alone with this woman. After hearing so much about her and her presence alone... Hawke was intimidated. But never one to show her fear when backed into a corner, she stood proud and glared at the dark outline of the woman. At least she glared until lightning lit up the sky and she got a good look at her. Bright jade eyes. Black hair darker than the night waving about around her head. Elvish... and yet not. In those few flashes of light Leana could see how the others could think her eerily beautiful as the mysterious woman stared at her with neither a mocking smile nor a disappointed frown. She was completely emotionless.

"I am impressed, you broke free from the spell... a little slower than I expected, but exactly as I predicted." Sarain moved to her (gracefully just as Isabela had said), stopping so that they were a few feet apart. "You may cower, but you cannot hide from the truth."

Angry at the obvious backhanded insult, and even more confused by what this woman was trying to get at, she held her composure, turning her chin up so that she looked down at the slightly shorter woman. Then she yelled above the noise, "Which is?"

"You are magickally inclined."

Hawke felt her face falter. "H-How?"

Sarain's hand cut through the air between them, voice still somehow floating to Hawke as if it were a calm day, "Does not matter, I came here to warn you. This storm has stalled above Kirkwall and will most likely be here most of the day tomorrow." The woman turned sideways and walked a ways, looking out into the choppy harbor. "Another day for you and your friends to find us and by my estimation you will find the estate shortly after midday."

"Why are you telling me this?" she cried out in disbelief and frustration, knowing there had to be a catch.

The mysterious woman turned back, green eyes holding hers captive. "Because, while you may find us I can promise you that you will not like what you find. Cease your mission. Fenris is lost to you now, let him go." She nodded at the scarf in Leana's hand. "For he certainly has let you go."

Hawke looked down at the scarf she grasped tightly, her heart pounding. She licked her lips before saying, "I have to make things right. I-I can't..." Then shook her head, snapping at the other woman, "No! Why do you care? Why ar-"

"I do not care, Champion." Sarain frowned, the first deviation from the blank face Leana had seen yet from the woman as her words became harsh, "Do not mistake my wanting to keep someone like you away from Danarius' clutches as caring. You are far more powerful than what even you can comprehend and you will complicate things in ways I can't begin to analyze. Perhaps you could find a way of freeing him, but I  _will not_ allow you to get in the way of my vengeance."

A flash of light blinded her and Leana covered her eyes. "What are you talking about? What veng-" The words froze on her tongue, finding with the fading light that the woman was gone and she was alone.

Her mind was swimming with all that had happened, all that she had learned. Also...  _How can anyone move so fast?_  She shivered in the cold downpour, looking at the scarf in her hand. _She could have killed me, why didn't she?_  Instead the woman had warned her off, threatened her. Only the Maker knew if everything she said was true. Hawke was doubtful. This woman could have planted the scarf... She could simply have said all this to scare her off...

Yes, that had to be it. Right?

.~-~.

Rain strode casually down the dark hallway towards the dining room, water rolling off her duster and dripping onto the plush carpet, leaving dark circles in her wake. With every step she found the lingering odd sensation of "tingles" up her right leg and her spine, but at least she no longer had to waste energy hiding the discomfort she had been in. A surprising, but pleasant result from having to take care of that Eluvian. Whether Merrill realized or not that the cat had been her remained to be seen. But at least she was almost back to the condition she had been before Danarius determined it prudent to demonstrate his power over her.

 _Speaking of the bastard..._ She came to a sudden halt, looking down at her wrist with a small frown. The blood spell there hummed with life, glowing beneath her sleeve. He was close.  _Most likely ahead in the room._  One side effect of the spell that bound them together allowed her to know where he was, something handy when his life was in danger. Deciding to get it over with, she took the few remaining steps to the end of the hallway and stopped.

Her perdition was correct. Danarius sat at a corner of the mahogany table near the fireplace, the expensive chair pulled out to face the now roaring fire. He was leaning forward, wiping his hands on a once white clothe that was stained red. Her gaze shifted to the slave who stood next to the Magister, holding a bowl of water for him, but could have been another table for all the Master cared. The once Dalish man, however, noticed her and gave a small respectful nod that shook his ear-length brown hair. He had not been a slave that long, three years barely, captured accidently when he was fifteen when he went off hunting alone, wanting to prove his worth to the clan.

He reminded Rain of Merrill in a way, the young man had been attracted to her from the start wanting to know why she looked as she did and simply knew that she knew more about his ancestry. Of course if you give even a little they always want more. She did not mind. Like the wayward keeper, she liked passing her knowledge on and correcting misconceptions.

"About time, Sarain," Danarius grumbled, tossing the soiled clothe to the table and grabbed the wine glass that had been sitting there. He leaned back, twirling the crimson liquid. "What do you have for me?"

Rain forced herself not to roll her eyes as she stepped further into the room and moved around the table. Unfortunately, just as she could sense where he was, he could feel when she was close by. She was glad it was not more than that or else things would have been problematic. Pushing the unneeded thought away, she dropped to one knee before him, head bent. His display earlier had been foolish, but she knew he was not above doing it again.

"My Master, the tempest above us has decided to grace this city until at least midmorning."

He cursed in Tevinter before waving his hand at her to get up. "Go on, what else? What of the Champion?"

Rising slowly to her feet, she kept her gaze averted to his feet. "We did all we could to thwart her, Master, but she will find this position shortly after high sun... at the earliest. If you order us here with some men, she will be delayed enough for you to board and we can join you-"

"No..."

She glanced up, finding his thoughtful gaze staring at the fire.  _What are you planning now?_ Quickly, she looked away before he could see her watching him and asked, "No, Master?"

Danarius gave one sharp nod, gray eyes focusing on her. "I have a more deliciously wicked greeting in store for the Champion." Gulping down the wine, he stood before wiping his mouth. "Let our little wolf rot in that room until sun rise. Only then can you heal him. When he's presentable, bring him to my chamber..." With the wine glass on the table, he reached out and hooked his finger under her chin, raising her gaze up to his. "Do you understand what I'm asking?"

"Yes, my Master."

"Good..." She stood unmoving as his thumb caressed her lower cheek and his voice softened, "Oh, and Sarain... I find myself displeased with my earlier actions, but we both know that it was only a show for those fools of course."

Rain blinked, once more finding herself at a loss as to how she should respond to his almost... caring apology? It certainly was the closest one she had ever heard from this man to a slave. Realizing he was waiting on her answer, she forced herself to half smirk. "We know."

He smiled, reassured by the motion and let go of her chin, turning as he gestured with his arms. "Marvelous. Come, Dale." The young slave cringed at the name Danarius had given him before following. "I think that it's time that I rested in Steven Dulour's worthless bed."

Rain stood there, watching as they disappeared into the hallway and did not relax until she felt through the bound that he was upstairs. Scowling, she looked sideways at the hissing fire.  _Why is Danarius acting out of character so suddenly?_   _Has Hastian told him already?_  No, she was certain he would not act like this if he knew, which meant it was something else. What that something could be or mean she did not know. And if there was one thing Rain hated most it was  _not knowing_. Sighing, she rubbed the back of her neck and sat down in the chair the Magister just vacated, thoughts trying to scrutinize and comprehend what it was Danarius knew. He gaze watched the shadows on the tiled floor play with the dim light from the fire. Or thought he knew.

It was going to be a long night. The fire snapped and popped almost in agreement with her.

~~~~.~-~.~~~~


	5. Who is Rain?

\- 5 -

Who is Rain?

Fenris was awakened by the opening and slamming of his current 'cell' door as someone entered and he brought his head up from where he laid in a tangled mess on the blood soaked carpet. The metallic stench of his blood was the only thing he could smell -and taste- as it overwhelmed his senses and made him want to forget the world once more in sleep. Yet he fought the urge to go back to his troubled sleep, instead watching the dark outline with his one eye that wasn't swollen shut. They moved towards something in the corner of the room, a table if he remembered correct.

 _One Danarius had kept his glass on while beating me,_ he sneered at the thought, but the movement of his face muscles angered the cuts and bruises he had received, and he ceased eminently.

With a heavy thumping sound, the person set a hard wooden object down on the table followed by something soft next to it, rustling like fabric would. He squinted into the darkness. His one eye trying to make out anymore features of this person. If it was Danarius he would have come in with a light, or in the least said a remark about how disgusting Fenris was with the door still open and the hallway light flooding the room. As of yet this person was abnormally silent, even in their fluid actions that had taken them across the entire room.

Before his mind could piece together what that meant, there was a blinding light that forced his one good eye closed.  _Magick_. Bitterness and hatred swelled within him. He could feel it tickle against his sweat and blood smeared skin. But like so many times before the magick didn't contain the taint of the Fade.  _That woman..._  What was her name? His mind was drawing a blank... or perhaps it was due to how many times he had been hit in the head. Whatever her name, he knew it was her and he tensed more. Distrustful. She may have... have... he couldn't recall what she had done for him, but he still wouldn't call her an ally.

Opening his eye a sliver, he tried to get used to the light, wanting to keep close attention to this enemy. Before he could make out anything between his blinking, blurry, and water filled vision he was startled as a small gust of wind seemingly coming from nowhere brushed against him and the wretched smell of his own blood and sweat vanished. Left in its stead was the fresh crisp aroma of trees. Rich. Woodsy. He could practically be in a forest with how overpowering the fragrance was. Hinted, as well, with the undertone of lavender or something akin to it seeing as it had a more earthy tone. He found himself calming against his will.

Finally able to open his eye, he took her in. Whatever her name, stood before the table to his right, digging through a dark leather pack that rested on what looked to be a pile of clothes. The hard wooden object he had heard before turned out to be a big bowl, probably full of water. From within the confines of the pack she pulled out a folded up rag. It was an old worn rag that looked to have seen countless lifetimes and yet incredibly held, though its multi-colors had faded and the ends had begun to fray. She unfolded the rag and with each one she removed a dim orange glow could be seen, until finally on the sixth or seventh fold the bright amber glow competed with the light from the lamp she had lit. Picking up the small vial that contained this radiant fluid, she held it up between her fingers, bowed her head respectfully as she muttered softly, before uncorking the vial and carefully let three drops fall into the wooden bowl. Quickly she corked the vial and folded it back within the safety of the multi-colored clothe and stowed it away once more in the pack.

She pulled out a few clean rags that had been hidden beneath the pack, then grabbed the wooden bowl and turned, walking to him. He grumbled at her, wanting nothing to do with her vile magick and muttered incoherently, words that unintelligible even to his own ears. But she only raised her brow at his weak attempt at moving away. Closing the gap, she knelt before him and set the bowl on the ground, tossing the rags into it. She picked one up. He growled instead, opting not to say anything. She rang it out, the water dripping back into the wooden bowl with a sloshing splash. He growled again. The water trickled down her bare arms, dark red sleeves rolled up revealing both the elegant tattoo on her left arm and the blood spell on her wrist. He found himself momentarily distracted as his gaze followed the beading liquid trickling down her arm, then one of the black curves before realizing himself, and growled.

Satisfied, she reached out to him, but he jerked away from her hand. A jolt went through him as her green eyes focused on his. And slowly this time, she reached for him. Though he wanted to get away he found himself unable to move as those eyes as green as any meadow, held. No. Pinned him to where he lay. He could almost see the lush spring meadow swaying in the wind, hear the stream trickling unseen in some hidden brook and imagine the bright butterflies as he stared, loosing himself in her captivating gaze. She leaned closer and he could also catch another smell joining that of the forest. Vanilla and spice. It washed over him as her warm, still wet fingers, grasped his chin.

She brought the rag gently to the biggest cut above his swollen eye and he hissed at the stinging sensation that followed. Batting his hand that he started to bring up away, she pressed the rag to his face once more as she told him with amusement glinting in her captivating eyes, "I would have told you that it hurts at first, but I didn't expect you to hear me over your growls."

Fenris scowled at her, uncaring that it pained him to do so. But as she let the rag sit on his cut whatever she put into the water began to seep into the wound, and he found the stinging turn into pleasant warmth that tingled. She took her gaze from him, watching her hand as she dabbed, cleaning the cut before pulling away and dipping the rag back into the wooden bowl. She rang it out, then found the next cut and pressed the rag onto it. He cringed, but otherwise didn't protest.

As minutes passed, he watched her repeat the process so many times he lost count, and only once had she used magick, stopping briefly to heal a deeper wound on the top of his head and whatever damage being hit multiple times had wrought. After that he sat up (with help), one leg bent up as the other rested at an odd angle below the knee, but at least his head was clear. And with it he realized he was learning one (maybe important?) thing about this woman: Sarain was meticulous. Exceedingly so. To the point of annoyance even. But her time was not wasted, even after a few minutes he could feel himself healing on his own. An undeniably odd feeling, skin melding together, and all (other than the head trauma) without a drop of her magick.

His gaze fell on the wooden bowl. Okay, there was magick, but he couldn't explain how water that had no beating heart or any connection to the Fade could have magick. But it was there, tickling his skin. He would wager that now with his head clear and if she pulled out that glowing vial again he would sense it from there too. What had the amber fluid been? Never had he heard of such an occurrence before and he had seen many things in his life, especially with Hawke and the gang. The thought of his friends turned his thoughts sour and he frowned.

"Not the water, but sap... the blood of a tree. One that holds life just as you and me," her voice was soft as it lured him from his dark reflections, and he looked up to find her bright eyes on him.

"How...?" his voice trailed off. He looked back to the floor, unnerved by that captivating gaze of hers.

"...did I know what you were thinking?" she finished his statement as she pulled the rag back from the cut on his neck she had been working on. "You're glaring at the bowl as if it bit you... I know you can feel magick..." Her hands moved as she spoke, and her wrists rolled so that her palms faced upward as she held her arms up in an almost shrugging gesture. "Anything living has a spark of wild magick within, you merely have to know where to look."

His brow creased.  _Wild magick, huh?_  He doubted that everything had magick, if that were the case more people would be using it wouldn't they? Even the odds with mages.

Dropping the rag back into the bowl, she nodded towards him, commanding, "Take off your armor."

He stared at her, face slackening as he was startled from his thoughts. "What?"

"I said,  _take off your armor,_  and your tunic too or at least what you can, Fenrehs..." She stood, turning her back to him as she walked to the table. "I need to see all of your wounds if I am to heal you properly."

He glowered at her back. "I don't want your help, witch."

"That's unfortunate, because you're getting my help whether you want it or not," she retorted, digging through her pack, unaffected by his harsh tone.

Shifting his gaze to the crimson stained floor, he muttered, "Just leave me alone."

Deciding to simply grab the whole pack, she turned to him and stood there for a few seconds examining his defeated appearance. "Look..." she finally said when she saw what she wanted, walking back to him, "I was instructed to make you presentable  _by Danarius_ , whether I want to help or not matters not. Stop being a child about this and take your  _mal'dixit_  armor off."

Fenris looked up at her when hearing the Tevinter curse word, for some reason having to recall that this woman was, in fact, from the Imperium and he would most likely be hearing more of his mother tongue from now on. You know, given he was a slave and all, and headed back to that life. His gaze fell back to the stained carpet, finding it hard to believe that after a decade free he was going back. He may have certain characteristics that stayed with him from his days as a slave, but he felt he had lost the ability to serve. Even if there was some sort of spell that shocked him if he didn't comply.

He heard her sigh at him before setting the bag on the floor and kneeing again. Closer this time so that she could reach the buckles of his armor and started to loosen his shoulder protection. With her unique aroma of spiced vanilla surrounding him, he found himself relaxing. What about this woman... these smells, did that? He didn't trust her. That was definite. But there was this calming presence. He couldn't recall the last time he had felt so calm... Had she casted some sort of spell on him? He didn't thing that was it, but really... did that matter? His breath was evening out and he could feel all his limbs loosening, giving into the calm sensations cascading over him.

A heavy thud of one of his metal shoulder plates being thrown casually to a far corner of the room brought his mind back to his current position in life. He flinched at the sound. He was going to be a slave. Correction, he was a slave. The second shoulder plate joined its mate. He flinched. Fenris was only an object that Danarius could do whatever he pleased with. Sarain's hands trailed down his arm, lightly tugging at his right glove. He flinched when it too joined the shoulders. No more could he read a book inside his dusty abode. Or take a stroll through Hightown. The bracer beneath followed and he flinched once more. Then again Fenris never truly owned the mansion and he always knew he was never really free.

With each metallic thud she exposed him, taking away the rest of his armor. Each time he flinched. And he watched. Watched her strip him of the armor he had earned for himself as a free man. Watched as how easily it came off beneath her nimble skilled fingers. Watched as the life he had made for himself disappeared. He started to feel the suffocating doom descend on him as he truly comprehended what was happening to him and what was going to happen to him.

_How am I going to survive this?_

Reaching his belt, she unfastened it. She had remained silent this whole time, but he knew she wasn't blind -having seen her quick, little glances in his peripheral vision. Later he would be disgusted with himself for being so weak around her. Now wasn't that time. He was having trouble breathing properly let alone keeping his face void of the emotions he was feeling, emotions that were twisting in his gut and chilling his heart.

Sighing, she stated to unlace the leather tunic he wore beneath his armor. "Fenrehs..." She waited for him to look at her before continuing, "Danarius will certainly have your memory erased when we get back. You will not remember any of-"

"That..." he snapped, cutting her off, "That does not help, Sarain."

Forcing her hands away he finished, groaning angrily as he awkwardly yanked the tunic off his shoulders and revealing his purple and blue bruised skin beneath. She blinked. As he took his tunic completely off, he realized this was the first time he had seen her candidly surprised.

Brushing her hair behind her excessively pointed ear, she hesitated, then whispered, "Rain."

"What?" he barked back harshly, confused and frustrated, punctuating word further as he flung the tunic to the farthest corner from him.

Shaking her head, she started to inspect his chest carefully and replied only a little louder than before, "Nothing."

 _What was that about?_  he mused, his gaze losing its fuming edge as he watched her more closely, her movements seemed a little more rushed as her fingers felt his sore ribs. Not by much, perhaps two seconds if that, but to his trained eyes there was a noticeable difference.

"What about the rain?" Fenris asked, finding himself curious as to this slight difference in this woman.

She froze, only to return to what she was doing. The hesitance was only for a few seconds, but as she went back to her pack and dug out a round vial, he found that he couldn't ignore it. This woman was emotionless. A cold-blooded killer. An arcane mage who liked toying with people for fun. And yet, people like that didn't pause at a word or hasten their movement when met with anger at that word.

"Drink this." She handed him the vial without looking, keeping her bright captivating eyes averted as she moved onto his hurt leg.

He did as she commanded, uncorking the vial and gulping the substance down before realizing what he was doing. Willing drinking anything this... witch... had made. He pulled the vial from his lips, but the damage was done. His eyes widened as he felt the cool liquid warm down his throat and surprisingly tasted good in comparison to any other health tonic he had so far. His gaze went to the vial, wondering if that stuff she put in the water was in the tonic as well.

Only to see the flash of a blade's edge. With no time to brace for the attack he thought was definite, he was startled when she simply started cutting his pant leg. Exposing the break of his bone. He jerked when she slammed the blade into the floor, knife sticking there and vibrating from the force as she finished, easily tearing the tough fabric away.

She was scowling as she scrutinized his leg, then gave a warning far too late as she pulled on his leg and reset the bone, "This will hurt."

Gasping from the pain that surged up his spine, he swore crossly, his voice echoing harshly around him. But the pain eased after that as her fingers glowed, mending the bone. Sometime between seeing the scowl and then sitting there with his leg healed and her digging back through the pack, he realized that he had probably just offended her by thinking she would attack him. Which, thinking about it now, was idiotic. This woman just spent -oh, a good hour or two healing him. It didn't make sense for her to kill him now. Also, did she not say Danarius had ordered her to make him presentable? And death certainly wasn't that.

"Did I insult you?" he asked, neither apologizing nor defending his actions.

Once more she paused, this time far longer than before as she tilted her head to give him a puzzled look, and slowly answered, "I feel not but one emotion and that is rage, and there is nothing you can ever do to earn that." She shook her head, going back to her pack and pulled out a glass jar and some wrap. "Besides to be insulted I would first have to feel hurt that you wronged me in some way to inspire such worthless ire." After setting those two objects to the side, she returned to the rag and wooden bowl and started to clean all the wounds she saw on his upper body. "I lost the capability to hurt a long time ago... So no, I'm not insulted."

Again watching her, he found that her movements had slowed once more, back to the normal speed from before. Her words sounded truthful and he had yet to hear her speak a lie... But that didn't mean she wasn't. Did this woman honestly feel nothing but rage? Fenris was angry. Often really. Yet, it wasn't the  _only_  thing he felt. Was it possible to be so horribly damaged that she lost the ability to feel? How did that happen? Did he even want to know?

He pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind, storing all the information he learned about this woman so that later he could try and figure her out, and instead decided to ask a second time, "What do you mean by rain?"

Her pause was hidden better this time as she dabbed a cut on his stomach. "Rain is my name. Sarain is only what Danarius or those not privy to my name, call me."

He felt like he had been hit in the gut, left breathless as he was by her words. "So... you just trusted me with your name?"

Setting the rag in the murky, bloody water, she glanced at him. "You called me Sarain when I didn't expect you to call me anything other than witch, something else you mean to anger me with, or nothing at all. I dislike being called Sarain, so a corrected you."

Fenris remained silent, letting her finish as he thought about her 'simple' answer. She sure gave him longwinded explanations that could have easily been summed up as  _I can't be insulted because I don't feel_  and  _you startled me and then I corrected you out of habit_. He struggled to appear uninterested as she un-capped the glass jar she had set out and started to apply the thick gloppy substance to the bruises. Something about how she answered him, however, told him that these were her normal responses. She wasn't trying to act like anything at the moment. At least he didn't think she was. Why would she? This surely wasn't the way to gain his trust. If anything it made him confused and more weary of her. Particularly with that way she changed so easily from a certain set of characteristics to another. These shifts in person reminded him of those minstrel group shows Danarius had gone to so long ago and that he had head Varric mention on occasion. Shows were people acted out other peoples' lives... He never understood the point. With this woman acting so many different ways it was hard to get a good read or understanding of her.

He took a short breath when she accidently pushed too hard and the substance's smell tickled his nose. The smell was familiar, yet... Unable to place what it was, his mind returned to his contemplations about this woman and her ability to be so many things all without feeling. What if she was insane? That... That was a distinct possibility. He had known of some slaves who had gone insane after some emotional and mentally strenuous event that scarred them. They were never quite... right. And here he thought he was messed up. _.._

As she leaned in closer, reaching for the bruise that stretched around his side and to his back her hair slipped free from behind her ear (something miraculous given how peculiar they were), and the ends brushed against his skin. With her being so close, he felt uneasy. Especially with him only in his tattered trousers. She wasn't going to make him take those off as well, was she?

Moving even closer, she motioned for him sit up from the wall so that she could reach his back. As her front lightly touched the side of his arm and back shoulder, Fenris searched for something else to distract his mind. With her at that angle somewhat behind him and hair covering her ears, he could have mistaken her for Hawke. Considering his emotions and thoughts were an upside-down whirl wind, the last thing he needed was to be reminded of the Champion or worse compare her to this woman.

Luckily he placed the smell right then.  _Mint!_  Fenris glanced sideways at the jar held in her other hand next to him. That was what the gloppy stuffs scent reminded him of. Mint and lemons. He was really starting feel like he wasn't in this dingy room where he spent most of the night being beaten, but in some enchanted forest garden. Next he would find those small folk who danced about in the mystifying massive forests west of Thedas as they tended said garden. What had they been called?  _Pixies..._   _old Dalish and Imperium lore..._  He never gave such childish myths much thought, at least until now as he tried to picture what one would look like.

Fenris shook his head.  _Vishante Kaffas, why am I thinking of-of PIXIES_? His life was in disarray. His thoughts worse. And here he was thinking of blighted pixies? Maybe she wasn't the one insane but him?

Rain shifted, finished with his bruises as she capped the jar and reached back for her pack. She was still far too close to his liking, what with her knee bumping him before giving him an oh-so good view of her back side as she held herself up on one arm to trade the jar for the wrap. Like any man, he looked, but to his defense she was maybe a foot away and hard to ignore for she was  _right there_. She picked up the wrap, then paused, juggling it in her free hand before shaking her head and putting the wrap back in the bag and digging around once more for something else. Beyond the point of awkward, he closed his eyes and leaned back into the wall, tilting his head back to lightly thump his head against the hard unforgiving brick.

With his eyes closed and surrounded by all these wonderfully odd smells, he felt himself relaxing further. His thoughts emptying out one by one until there was only peaceful bliss. He could even feel sleep starting to take hold as each and every muscle loosened. In the back of his mind this ease at feeling clam unnerved him. He was in a room with an enemy. A threat. Never should he ever fall asleep in this woman's presence. But that thought was lost just as easily with the rest, and he thought again,  _Am I under a spell?_  Looking back everything that had happened so far in this room felt surreal. His emotions dulled but for the most strongest that only felt like a mild sensation. Again these thoughts were lost as his whole body finally reached that state of relaxation, one that felt numb and yet tingling.

What would it be like to have this his whole life? The skill to reach this tranquility? Where his mind was almost completely empty of thoughts and what plagued him. Was this what he had been searching for and what Hawke had been close to giving him? All he knew was that he could get used to it. But then that would make it dangerous and he didn't want this peace to be that.

.~-~.

"Let me get this straight," Varric said as he looked around the room at each of them, voice tinged somewhat with anger, a lot of disbelief, and even a little amusement as he stood there hair disheveled by the storm and water dripping from his long coat, Bianca propped against his shoulder casually. "There were -oh, one, two, three, four, five, six." He pointed at them dramatically. "There were six of you here, and she just waltzed right in and took the mirror? Is that what you're trying to tell me?"

All of them looked down at the ground, miserable and depressed (even Anders had the grace to look guilty). Hawke was sitting in the chair, head in her hands, and normally tame black hair wild from the amount of times she had ran her shaking fingers through it. She shook her head, none of the others knowing what to say, but she did. "She put us under some sort of spell, Varric." Looking up, her eyes were red from crying, voice hoarse from screaming into the night after the woman left her there (which was what finally woke up the others as the woman's spell wore off). She stared at him, barely holding herself together. "It wasn't normal magick either or Anders or myself would have felt it... A-And I think she came in here as a-a cat."

"A cat? Where the Maker's Stones did you get a cat?"

Everyone looked at Anders and he flushed. "H-Hey... how was I to know? Last I knew that was not possible." They nodded in agreement, but no one spoke up to comfort him, not when they all felt particularly like week old Mabari dung that had been left to brake in the sun after a few nights of rain.

"I knew," Merrill said softly into the silence.

She cringed when Isabela cried out, "You what? You knew, oh, Kitten! Why didn't you say anything?"

Holding her hands before her and twisting them as she toed the worn floors of her house, the wayward Keeper refused to meet any of their eyes. "I knew when I was healing her. The cat was hurt badly from magick in not just her leg but throughout her body. An injury that matched Sarain's exactly... and I only know this because I've shocked myself a few times. It really, really hurts. I'm actually surprised she was able to move really. But then she's probably used to pain and whatnot. And-"

"Daisy, why did you not warn the others?" Varric interrupted her babbling, walking over to her and grabbed one of her hands to stop their nervous twitches.

She looked up at him. "I-I..." Then shook her head, looking down again, not wanting to see their (his) disappointment. "I know you all want me to say it was magick, but it wasn't. She didn't force me not to say anything."

Hawke stood from her chair that grinded against the ground from the abrupt movement, her eyes narrowing on the elf. "Then why, why in the blazes would you betray us like this, Merrill."

Her head snapped up, big eyes widening further. "Be-betrayal? I didn't mean- I wasn't- I wasn't trying to betray you, sarah Hawke. I just know that this woman is very intelligent and think it best to stay out of her way. I-I mean, she has already saved me, Isabela, and Varric once. If we keep attacking her she won't have a choice if that mean, evil man outright orders her to kill us."

Hawke picked up the closest object to her (which happened to be a candle) and hurled it at the fireplace, screaming with frustration. Merrill flinched as the others stared at their leader with varying amounts of surprise and wonder, this outburst that was completely abnormal for her.

The Champion began to pace, hand on her hips, and all watched, hesitant to stop her. "She is only one woman! One woman. She can't be  _that_ perfect. She can't!"

Anders, having stood upon Hawke's show of frustration, took a step towards her, hoping to calm her down. "Le-"

"Quiet," she snapped, and he promptly backed away from her dark gaze, even further startled.

"Don't tell me everything's going to be okay." She turned her dark gaze to the rest of them. "If none of you haven't noticed it's about time you blighted did. Things don't always have a happy ending," losing steam, her eyes started to do that horrible tearing up thing again. She put the back of her hand over her eyes, backing into the wall next to the fireplace and slowly slid down. "Not everyone comes out alive."

Aveline frowned at her friend. "No they don't, Hawke. And I  _do_ know that." Angry, but brushing off the slight insult, she walked to her struggling friend and knelt, putting her hand on Hawke's knee. "But that does not mean we have to stop living our lives. Your family is dead, but do you think they want you hurting like this? Cursing the world and becoming a shell of your former self?"

Hawke shook her head, looking up at her red-headed friend, silent tears streaming down her face. "No," she croaked softly, shaking her head more, "No... but-"

"No. No but's, Hawke." Aveline pulled her into a hug as the Champion finally broke down. "There are no, but's."

The others turned from the two, trying to give their friend time as they formed a disordered circle, attempting to figure out what they should do next.

Varric sighed, patting Merrill on the shoulder. "While not good, your logic is... remarkably sound, Daisy. You are right, I fear if we keep poking this hornets' nest we will not like what comes out of it, but that still doesn't mean we should give up. Fenris, was -no,  _is_ \- are friend and we should do everything we can to help him. Even if that means death. Right, Daisy?"

She nodded, looking down at her feet, ashamed.

The dwarf glanced at all their miserable looks, smirking to himself. "While you were all getting lulled to sleep by a cat, I may have actually come up with our first real lead..." Shadow, Hawke's Mabari barked, and Varric chuckled, nodding at the battle dog. "Okay, okay,  _we_  may have a lead. He helped track, but it was finally my charm that got it."

.~-~.

Fenris was dozing on and off when he heard Rain mutter something that sounded Elvish, and he fought the sleep that was tempting him as he lazily opened his eyes and looked at her. Only to promptly wish he hadn't seeing as his new -lower- view was far worse than before as she was still on her hands and knees, digging through her pack. Fenris swallowed, the calm lost. For the first time he notice she didn't have that hard leather vest on leaving her only in that dark red shirt that was bunching up as she searched in her pack. With the bunching shirt, beneath showed the skin of her lower back as well as hanging down loosely below, showing her well-toned stomach. Fortunately he couldn't see much else, but he did see that the same black patterning on her arm continued on her back and looked to continue to her right leg as the tattoo disappeared into her... form-fitted pants. He was tempted to sit up, wanting a better look of the tattoo, but afraid such movement would make her realize that he was... Well, looking far past what was polite.

Frustrated and flustered, he went to avert his gaze to the only place he couldn't still see her in his peripheral -the ceiling- when he caught the sight of the inside of her pack. He did a double take.  _What kind of bag is that?_  It certainly wasn't one he had seen before as it appeared to have no end. He saw literally hundreds of objects crammed into this dark hole that defied all reason as it continued for a few feet. Vertically! He might add. Who knew about horizontally? This bag was only a regular-sized travel pack, not but a foot tall as it was wide and high. There was no way her arm could disappear up to the shoulder like  _that_!

"Portach gar," she whispered softly, so soft that he almost missed it.

And just like that the pack turned into a normal one, with definite size and shape. He stared, unable to comprehend what it was he had seen. There was no way he had imagined all of that! But there was little time to question it as she started to turn around, and knowing she hadn't meant for him to see and most likely didn't know, he wanted to keep this small knowledge to himself for the time being. Quickly, he tilted his head back, resting it on the wall and closed his eyes, trying to calm his racing heart. Easier said than done.

Chancing a peek, he was met with another odd sight. Rain next to him, obviously holding something, and yet he could not see what 'it' was she held. She wasn't looking at him, but gaze concentrated on the object. He felt the tickle of magick on his skin increase. As she rubbed whatever the object was between her fingers she shifted the object only a hair. The light from the lantern still on the table caught the object and illuminated it. What he saw... Again he couldn't explain. It looked to be spiders silk, finely woven into cloth.

Before he could stop himself he found himself asking, "W-What is that?"

Rain jerked and the magick she had been gathering fell away, whatever spell she had been thinking of doing forgotten. Grimacing, she glanced between him and the spider-silk clothe (or so he was dimming it until corrected otherwise). She sighed as she held it out for him to touch. Question forgotten momentarily, he hesitantly brought his hand up and dragged his hand down the piece she exposed. Or at least tried to, the amazingly cool material stuck to his fingers. Frowning he attempted to pull his hand away, but it stuck strong and came with his hand. He used his other hand, hoping that applying force with his other hand would free him only to find that both of his hands became stuck.

Starting to get rather angry with the 'mal'dixit sticky spider-silk cloth', he started to curse in Tevinter until he was grumbling obscene phrases every other breath. Everything! Everything he did seemed to make things worse until he even got the material stuck to his left cheek and the pant leg of his bent knee.

"..."

He froze when a strange sound made him realize Rain was still there. And very, very carefully he turned his head in a way that allowed him to see her over the blighted material. What he found shocked him more than the stupid spider-silk and endless pack. The back of her free hand was pressed over her mouth and her head tilted away as her body shook with that faint noise that sounded like that tiny squeaking mouse in his mansion that visited occasionally.  _I-Is she laughing at me?_

Bewildered, he mumbled, "Some help would be nice..."

Rain coughed and then cleared her throat before turning back to him and using the back to remove the offending material from his pant leg. The whole time there was the ever faintest smile on her lips. But it was her eyes that told him that the smile wasn't faked. They glinted with life. Not hollow and empty as before. Was this the first true emotion he was seeing from her? If so he liked it far more than her normal emotionless expression or all those forged ones she did when toying with people. She was a beautiful woman to begin with, but it was a cold-distant and almost harsh beauty with all the sharp angles of her face and her extremely pointed ears. Like a rose with its prickly stems. This... this small, almost innocent smile softened those harsh features and in his opinion made her far more striking.

Something that was most certainly a dangerous thought to have.

Even as he mentally chastised himself for thinking it, he found that voice was hard to listen too as he continued to stare at her. And his stare didn't go unnoticed. She kept glancing at him, brow rising slightly with puzzlement. She shifted so she was knelt right next to him, her shoulder touching his as she stretched some of the material out and held it between them and the light. He didn't want to look away from her smile, but did and was amazed. It really did look like spiders silk, millions upon millions of little webs intricately woven together and yet he could still see the gaps between to the other side, which gave it that invisible look.

"This is..." she started and he looked at her just in time to see her smile dim, "It is best for both of us if I don't answer that. Just know that it will protect you and give your chest support while it heals."

With her fading smile, he was hesitant to say anything least he make it disappear all together, but decided a simple, "How?" would be okay.

She moved suddenly, turning to face his side as she carefully flipped the material. "Try and hit it with everything you have... lyrium too if you want."

Giving her a questioning look, but did as she told him. His lyrium markings in his right hand hummed to life and pulling his arm back as much as he was willing to -thinking she was a little crazy and imagining his fist going right through to her face- before punching. He was startled when his fist slammed against the material as if he were hitting the brick wall behind him, the force vibrating back up his arm and making his teeth clatter. His eyes widened, unable to keep his mouth from falling open a little.

"Any movement from the other side is dampened..." She flipped the material around once more and rubbed it between her fingers. "And if the motion is quick, this stops it completely while making the force go back to the attacker. Or most of it..." She shrugged, that little smile growing a little seeing his awe. She then asked, "Can I?"

Fenris nodded. The only thing he was capable of doing. How was it a material like this could exist? How was this not known? He shivered slightly when the -dare he say magickal?- material touched his skin. He hardly realized how close she was to put it on. Well, that was until she practically hugged him as she reached around. Then he noticed her all too precisely how her slim, muscular and definitely feminine body was pressed against his. Or the way her spiced vanilla scent grew stronger, wrapping around him and making him relax when he wanted to tense. Even the top of her head was right below his chin.

"Is this too tight?" she asked, stretching a place she had just intersected two pieces of the spider-silk.

"Uh... no?" At his abnormal tone she glanced up, tilting her had sideways as she started at him confused as to what was wrong with him. He cleared his throat and stated with slightly more confidence, "No."

Giving him an unsure nod, she pulled back the material and loosened it even though he had stated otherwise before starting to wrap another layer below the first.  _Fasta Vass_ ,  _she is the enemy!_  he thought with a scowl, furious with himself and where his thoughts had gone. He looked around the room, searching for something else to distract him and focused on the blood stained floor. Not even a minute later his gaze fell back on her. There was no way he was attracted to this woman.  _This... this demon-mage... woman. I don't even think she's a real elf!_

Realizing he was staring at her, he stared to the side at the brick wall, but his gaze, again, came back to her as she nearly hugged him.  _She is my enemy_.  _The one who made it possible for Danarius to drag me back to this forsaken Void of a life._ Inwardly groaning at himself, he forced himself to look at the wooden bowl before him and above her head. Which he looked down at shortly after. There was absolutely positively  _no way_  in all of creation that he found her even remotely attractive. She was just strange. An exotic alien looking elf, that was all.

Frustrated with himself, he shook his head and forced himself to find anything that would hold his attention longer than a few minutes. But his mind always went back to her, which wasn't much of a surprise. She was the only real thing to look at of interest in the room. Blood stained carpets, boring brick walls, and a wooden bowl didn't really inspire much to pounder. Sure, there was that odd pack of hers and the spider-silk, unfortunately both treated far too close to thoughts of her for his liking.

He was about to close his eyes and call it good when a red glow suddenly appeared and he felt the distasteful sensation of blood-magick. However faint, it was there. Surprised, for she had adamantly sworn herself that she didn't use such magick and had Merrill confirm it as well, he glanced down. She had paused in wrapping his chest, her right hand carefully holding it as she rubbed her wrist with her other hand where the blood spell that bound her to Danarius rested, looking more like angry red -and now glowing- scars more than anything of importance. If he had not been looking as closely as he was he would have missed how her hands trembled slightly.

Breaking the stillness, he decided to ask a few questions that had been troubling him, "That  _spell_ , how does it work? Is he going to brand me with one?"

Rain was emotionless, that small smile of hers having left right when the blood-spell mark started to glow. Letting the mark be she went to continue what she was doing as she answered, "Do not concern yourself with it. Only one can exist between a master and a slave."

Fenris grunted, then said darkly, "Why? Something that powerful... I'm surprised he wouldn't want more."

Sighing (something he noticed she was doing a lot because of him), she finished wrapping his chest as she pressed what little remained to the material above. No surprise it stayed there. "Impractical, for one. Having more than one strains the bounds with each addition making them weaker." She paused before adding, "Then there is the matter of trading life forces... And distance also factors in."

He blinked, unsure if he heard her right. "Trading life forces? I thought it was one way."

Rain didn't answer right away as she moved, kneeling back between her pack and the wooden bowl. She casually tipped the dirty water from the bowl right onto the stained floor, uncaring that she would make the floor soggy or even get him wet. She then rolled the bowl around, not looking at him as her eyes dimmed in thought. He realized that her actions showed that she wasn't sure she should tell him, and was hesitating as she thought out whatever it was she was considering.

Finally she stopped playing with the bowl, meeting his gaze. "This spells origin was not in blood-magick, they twisted a once sanctified oath to satisfy their whims. Yet, while they might bend boundaries within, they cannot completely alter the enchantment... Danarius is bound to me as much as I am to him and is the main reason why there cannot be more than one."

Fenris stared at her, unable to believe what she just told him. Could it be? The answer to his freedom was here all along? If she replenished Danarius' lost health with her own to the point of dying, could he do the same for her? It stood to reason. She said they could bend characteristics of the spell, but not the foundation. Judging from what he had seen thus far that meant when she was hurt, he didn't necessarily heal her with his own life, but he could cease living if she were to suddenly... die... His eyes flicked to the knife she had left sticking out of the floor by his leg, seeming forgotten.

_But can I kill her?_

This question wasn't so much about whether he physically could. He knew she was far more powerful than him which made the odds daunting at best, but not impossible. No, it was more a question of whether he could kill her even if he did have the strength too. If he had the possibility to...

Having spent these few hours in her calming presence, he found himself at odds with his resentment and hatred towards her. On one hand she was a mage. A powerful one at that. And the one who had helped capture him. On the other she was a slave herself, bound by this spell that was more a curse than anything else. He believed she was broken mentally in some way, most likely to the point that she was bordering on insanity. Oh... and there was that real smile of hers that he got to see.

Could he honestly blame her for his capture?

 _Yes!_ a voice inside roared to life, furious that he would even suggest otherwise.

 _No..._ another, somewhat weaker voice countered.

He was having difficulty giving a confident answer to that. It infuriated him. Why was he so reluctant? This was his freedom. His freedom! Not something to brush off lightly. Was he willing to spend the rest of his life as Danarius' slave? Again!? For this one woman who had helped drag him back into servitude? And a mage with frightening magick on top of that? No, no he wasn't. The way he saw it the world would be a far better place without this mysterious odd woman with  _wild_  magick.

Rain shrugged when he said nothing back and moved to stand as well as get her pack and the wooden bowl. It was at that moment he pounced. Wanting to take her by surprise, knowing it was the only way he could possibly kill her. His lyrium marking kindled to life as he sprung to his feet. He grabbed the handle of the knife at his knee as his other hand wrapped around her slender neck. Then he turned them both, slamming her back into the wall. Pinning her there. Thinking he had her, he squeezed, about to snap her neck as well as drive the knife between her ribs to make sure he killed her. Regrettably her apathetic look as she stared down at him made him pause. And then, then there was her eyes. Acceptance? One hand did hold his wrist loosely, but she wasn't stopping him. Something about how even more hollow her eyes were made his blood feel cold in his veins.  _Does she want to die?_

He didn't let go, but he didn't squeeze any more either as he found himself unable to stop the question from escaping his mouth, "Why aren't you fighting back?"

"Simple, Fenrehs. You will not kill me." Her eyebrow twitched before she tilted her head up further, showing complete conviction.

He blinked. Getting over his initial surprise, he grew angry at the certainty she was showing. "Why? Tell me, why won't I kill you right here and now? Free myself from servitude forever?!"

"We are never free. There will always be something that binds us. Whether that be physical like the spell, chains, and vengeance for me... or emotionally for you. Or even greed and faith for the citizens of Kirkwall. It doesn't matter what you do or where you go, you will  _always_ be a slave to something." Fenris didn't let go of her neck, but he did let her feet touch the floor, unnerved with what she said. Had he not come to the same conclusion himself the day before? But Rain didn't stop there, forcing the point home as one of her fingers began to trace his white markings. "Freedom is a false truth, an illusion, a lie the world wishes were true but can never hope to attain."

The change over Rain was sudden and without warning, a tigress pouncing on her kill in the Imperium jungles in the far north. She looked from her hand that was tracing his markings, giving him a sly smirk, one that made him feel ill at how twisted it was from the real one he saw earlier. And then, then there were her eyes, glinting like Isabela's when the pirate wench knew for certain she had everyone where she wanted them during one of their games of Diamond Back.

There was also her voice, with a hint seductive, a little playful, and a whole lot of mocking, "Then there are sixteen hundred and...  _forty-three_  other reasons you won't... One, being your sister and you're ailing mother. A mother who is waiting patiently back home for her  _little Leto_  to return to her..." Her eyes trailed down his body and he shivered almost feeling the way her eyes roamed him. "As your mother has been waiting since the day  _you_  competed and  _agreed_  for those  _filthy_ markings."

Fenris let go of her swiftly, as if stung by what she said and backed away from her distressed. "What are you talking about?"

Not even rubbing her neck, she crossed her arms and examined her nails as she replied smoothly, "Oh... you do not remember? You earned your mother and sister's  _freedom_  by winning a game Danarius hosted, inviting slaves not only from his holdings, but the upper cusp of the Imperium. Varania told me you were quite  _proud_  of having such a privilege."

It had to be a lie. He wouldn't ever willing agree to these markings... Would he? The lyrium shimmered a pale blue with his rising emotions and he shook his head. The truth was: He wasn't sure. He had seen how others around him (mainly Hawke) acted with their family. The Champion would do anything to get them back if she could. He couldn't remember his past, who was he to say he wouldn't have such feelings towards his own? That still didn't mean it was true either.

Gritting his teeth, he snarled at her, "You lie."

"I cannot lie..." She waved the accusation away and started walking to him as she continued, "But, you will believe what you will. This is beside the point. What the true question here is: Are you going to turn your nose up at the sacrifice you made, Fenrehs, only because you can't remember making it?"

His brow creased with confusion, not understanding as he took a step back. "Wha-"

"Kill me!" she cut him off, using her magick to suddenly step before him, seized his wrist that still held the knife and forced him to bring the blade to her neck. "Go ahead, do it!"

He felt her magick on his skin, small hint of Fade tainting the forest fragrance he had grown so used to. With as much force as he was willing to he tried to pull back, but her magick was equal to his and kept his hand there. If anything it was stronger as the knife's blade pressed so hard against her flesh that he could actually see blood beginning to well up. He felt he was now trying to keep her from doing it as ever-so-slowly one drop formed only to trail down her neck and into her red shirt. They stared each other down for what felt like eternity to Fenris. His heart thumping in his chest. They both were breathing a little heavier, but neither had really exerted themselves.

No more was she using that mocking look, or even smirking for that matter. She was emotionless once more, the Ice Queen, the thorny rose as she finally broke the silence with her hollow words, "Kill me, Fenrehs, and not only will Danarius and myself die, but so will all those in his holdings. All sixteen hundred and forty-three of them." She waited for dramatic effect and giving it time to sink in, "Which includes your mother and sister who both had to accept being bound, in part, as Danarius possessions."

Two more drops of blood had joined the first and it looked to be increasing in speed. He shook his head slowly, careful not to move too much with the knife still at her throat as he asked, voice gritty, "Why? Why would they-"

"Love. Family." For whatever reason with these words she pressed the blade even more into her skin and he pulled against her more, having to actually exert himself. "Same reason you gave yourself over to a far more atrocious Master who imbued lyrium into your skin. Your mother was dying slowly from a horrifying disease and your sister decided she couldn't live a  _free_  life without her, even if that meant that both of them would be marked much like a slave until she proves her worth as an apprentice. Danarius will make that an impossible feat indeed."

Fenris couldn't take it anymore and murmured, "Stop..." His voice shook, his white markings starting to hum with life as he tried to yank his hand and the blade from her neck, "Stop this, Rain. I kill on my own terms, no one else's."

When even then she wouldn't let go, he attempted to make the blade phase through her, making it harmless. To his shock, and horror it didn't work. His body was brighter than the lantern but his hand and the knife remained solid. Still very close to slitting her throat. He didn't know what that meant. Didn't give himself time to think about it as he grew desperate. Now faced with... whatever this was, he didn't want it like this.

"Rain! Stop this. Do you want me to kill you? Are you insane?" He hated how his voice sounded like he was pleading with her, but this was honestly upsetting him.

"Yes."

Whether she said yes she wanted him to kill her, or yes she was insane, he wasn't sure and before he could ask which she meant, her magick eased up and he took the advantage to yank it away and throw it at the far wall where it somehow stuck into the brick. His chest heaved as he stared at it at first with relief and then bewilderment. What just happened? He had wanted to kill her, end this nightmare and still did... in part. Was it the threat he didn't fully understand? Was he afraid of killing -how many was it? Fifteen? No. Sixteen hundred and forty-three- other people besides her and Danarius?

Or in this short span of maybe fifteen minutes, with the choice to  _not_  kill her almost taken from him, did he realize there wasn't enough fault here to blame her for this? That wasn't right. He still hated her or at least disliked her. But... Maker, he was so lost, certainly daze, and utterly confused. How had she done that? Reversed his thinking and made him into the protector of her health? He looked at her, finding the same emotionless expression as before. And yet, something had changed in her eyes. He didn't know what, but they weren't as empty looking as before.

Her hand was still held before her, and she brought it to her neck, finger glowing green as she followed the cut and healed it. Then let her hand fall to her side. She offered no other words to help his confused state and he frowned at her. This time he didn't move when she closed what little distance there was between them. His muscles tenses as she reached up touching one of the white markings at his forearm and slowly following it up.

"The Imperium has changed since you left, Fenrehs." He was about to ask why she was telling him this when she continued, giving him no time, "New rules and faces. And in part we have you to thank for the rules..." His eyes widened, looking to her, but she was still watching her finger and his marking she had followed to his chest. "When Danarius couldn't keep a once loyal slave of your capacity from running, Magisters found new ways to make escape impossible even upon a Magisters death. Now, if they don't have heirs to pass their belongings and slaves too, then everyone dies with the Magister. Problem solved."

She fell silent, letting her words linger as she followed the mark up his neck. When her touch passed his throat he swallowed. She pressed on, going even further, coming to the end below his lower lip. She stopped unmoving with her finger barely touching and after a few heartbeats (wild as they may be, rattling in his chest), she finally met his gaze. Jade eyes meeting emerald. Again there was something there, something not empty.

"Hadriana is dead, disposed of by your hand and with no children or proved apprentices to his name, Danarius has no heir," her voice had soften and her hand flattened on his cheek, "I understand your standings with your sister is not that agreeable... But let me ask you this, Fenrehs... Is your  _freedom_  worth the life of your guiltless mother and all those innocent slaves?"

Fenris stared into her eyes for another minute. A heavy thick feeling slithered around him, constricting as he wondered like before if he could do that, be responsible for so many deaths. Then there was his mother to consider. His foolish sister had traded all three lives to save their mother's. He couldn't even remember her and yet here he was feeling guilty for even thinking of doing it. What was freedom? Rain was right, it was an illusion.

He bowed his head. Accepting bitter defeat. She was right. Funny how he just thought that within such a short time span, but in both cases it was true. He wouldn't, couldn't kill her. Or Danarius for that matter... Rightfully knowing so many would parish for a lie. He was many things, but mass executioner? Especially of slaves? He cared not for the plight of the Dalish, or his people who willing lived in the Alienage... but slaves? He understood them better than anyone else. He was one after all...

"Didn't think so," Rain said, her thumb rubbed his cheek, prompting him to look up. "That, Fenris, is why neither my death nor Danarius' will be at your hands..." Her hand slid off and she went to the knife in the wall, using magick to pull it out. She studied the scratched and battered blade, and added so softly he wondered if she had said it at all, "At least not yet."

He found himself standing there, stunned into obedience as he reevaluated this woman. Insane or not, she was sharp. She knew when she told him about the bound that he would attack, no doubt planning out each and every way it could end in those few moments before. And while she hadn't been playing him at the beginning, here at the end, with the change in her voice, that smirk, and that sway in her hips as she walked. She certainly had been playing him then. There was also that thing where she had him keeping her from him killing her (which made him confused just thinking about it and something he still didn't fully grasp at how she had done it). These things, these were that main reason he hated her. She played and toyed with people, uncaring about the emotional damaged she caused.

It amazed him how a woman who stood a good three inches shorter than him could be so... so...

Having tossed the worthless blade to the floor she picked up her pack and the bowl and took them to the table. She drew the Fade to her and he stiffened as he looked at her. She had used a lot of Fade magick recently, but it still wasn't as rank as when Danarius or Anders used. He watched as she filled the bowl with water, adding a new clean rag to it. She turned to him, motioning with her hand for him to walk to her. He took a step without thinking, then glared at the floor as he obeyed, closing the distance and stood there for her.

"Finish washing yourself. New clothes are here..." She patted the pile before slinging her pack over her shoulder. "I'll be back shortly."

She bumped into him as she passed, heading for the door and opened it. She took a step, but then something made her stop. He turned, watching her back as for nearly three minutes she stood there staring at the floor before her and saying nothing. Towards the end her fingers strummed on the door _._  Over and over. Then they stopped and she shifted her pack strap on her shoulder, the only hints that whatever she was thinking had been resolved.

"Don't do anything foolish, Fenrehs." She glanced over her shoulder at him before looking at the floor at her side. "Your position may be... dire... but not hopeless."

 _Oh, that's funny... is she trying to make me angry?_  His fist clenched at his sides as he sneered at her, "How would you know of hope? You said you can't feel."

She gave a small chuckle that rang shallow and she looked out into the hallway. "I was using a word most find comforting... But you're not like most are you?" Shaking her head, she turned to meet his gaze. "Perhaps what I should say is that... your position is not without strategic options."

He crossed his arms, muttering sarcastically, "If I play my cards right. That's what you mean?"

Tipping her head, Rain gave him a small smile and while close, was not her real one. "Yes." However, it lasted all of a second as she grew deathly serious. "You may not be keen about me or trust me, but if you want out of this all you have to do is-"

"Play your game with you," he cut her off as he stated darkly, none too happy.

She tipped her head again. "Yes, or merely be a pawn I can use if a time comes and I need your... skills."

"Why would I want to? What do I gain from helping you?"

Rain stared at him blankly for a few long seconds, doing that thing again where she was plotting something. He could see it in her eyes. Almost hear those gears in her head turning and feel the way she was planning on using him. He shivered. Why did he get the notion he was dealing with a demon?

She licked her lips, averting her eyes as her hand tightened on the side of the door. He wasn't sure, but he thought he had seen uncertainty in her eyes before she said, "If you allow me to use you even once, Fenrehs, I will pledge to do everything in my power to see you through this." He thought he noticed her blanch, but blinked and she was back to normal as her gaze shifted back, emotionless again. "Perhaps even with your memory intact."

His breath hitched, shocked not only to hear her say she would pledge herself or that she'd help him keep his memory... but the sheer weight of her words. They carried magick. Faint as it was, it was still there. And different than anything he felt before. Maybe she hadn't been lying when she said she couldn't lie? He remembered Merrill saying something about how the Dalish fear saying certain things believing it had power... Was this  _wild_  magick she spoke of weaved to this world so much that even the spoken word couldn't be broken?

"If... if I accept this. What would I have to do?" He couldn't believe he was even considering this. Dealing with a mage with strange magick? It was unheard of for him and yet here he was doing just that.

Her eyes darkened a fraction. "I think you already know. You felt the air shift just now too, did you not?" He hesitated, then nodded. "We will be making an oath, an oath with a type of magick that even  _I_  don't fully understand. It is not Fade, nor is it wholly wild in nature. If either of us were to break such an oath... even I can't imagine the consequences."

Fenris couldn't answer, instead going to the clothes and looked through them with half interest as he thought about her offer. Still in disbelief that he was even considering it. On top there were black pants pants, the material actually better and tougher than the off-gray tattered ones he currently wore. Beneath them was a leather tunic, black with silver and red trimming. Again he was surprised by the quality. Danarius would want him to look good and be ready to defend (or whatever he choose for Fenris), but this quality surpassed that. There was even a softer material stitched on the inside to stop chaffing and help pull sweat from the body.

He glanced at her, finding -as he suspected- her watching him. "You picked this for me?"

She gave him a nod. "You will find that Danarius allows me a surprisingly amount of free rein. I am his head over-seer of the slaves after all."

"He allows you to buy such quality for mere  _slaves_?" he asked, disgusted with the last word as he sneered at it.

"I am also the head of his estates, Fenrehs." Startled he looked at her, she casually crossed her arms, door brushing against her side. "I see to everything he ever wants or desires as well as his purse. Of course he does receive daily assessments, but after I started getting results where others failed he began to not question as thoroughly as he once had."

Fenris rubbed the material of the tunic between his fingers. He wasn't that surprised actually. "You've made yourself indispensable... to the point that he can't live without you." He met her gaze. "I wonder, now, how did you do manage that?"

"Carefully."

"No doubt each step meticulously thought out," he added, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

Rain sauntered his way before coming to a stop less than a foot from him and said, "Knowing now what I can do. Are you certain commencing such a covenant with me is a good thought?" Everything about her had changed suddenly in those few steps, reminding him of a certain pirate wench. She stared up at him from beneath her lashes with this somehow innocent looking sultry smile that put even Isabela to shame, and while he knew it wasn't real still made him tense, his heart quicken and made him feel hot all over. "Are  _prepared_  to fasten yourself to someone like me? In this way? Even if I use you once?" He remained unmoving, knowing she was trying to play him. But as she leaned closer, bringing her hands to his chest and she went up on her toes as she moved her hands up so that her arms wrapped around his neck, making her press flat against him... he found himself forgetting.

"Can you live with yourself..." He shuddered when her fingers caressed his right ear before tailing down ever-so-slowly to his neck and back again. "Knowing you willingly made such an oath with  _a mage..."_ She bit her lower lip and his gaze went there and quite against his will the thought of what it would be like to kiss her entered his mind. He swallowed, forcing himself to look her in the eyes again. "And with such unknown powerful magick?" His heart nearly stopped when she grazed her nose along his jaw and to his ear, whispering and purring his name, "Fenrehs...? How can you work with someone..."

She had gone even further up on her toes as if she were going to kiss him. Only to stop with her lips hardly a whisper away, took her hands way from him suddenly and held them up in an almost surrender gesture as she said, deadpan, "Who manipulates everyone so easily?"

Her abrupt change back, startled him, snapping him out of whatever haze he had been in.  _What the...? Venhedis!_  His ire sparked, glaring at her as he grumbled darkly, "Get away from me,  _witch_."

Her lips twitched before glancing down. "I would, but..."

His gaze followed, mortified to find that he was the one holding her. He was holding her! What was wrong with him? Flustered, he pulled her away so that there was distance between them and she was back, flat on her feet. Much to his chagrin, though, he hadn't exactly pushed her away as he had wanted, and was even still holding her hips. He jerked his arms away, folding them protectively over his chest.

Still more flustered than sounding angry like he meant to, he said, "Aren't you supposed to be talking me into making such a-a deal? This. This makes me want nothing to do with you or whatever you offer."

"Good," she muttered turning to leave.

Without consciously realizing it, he reached out and grabbed her arm. "What? What do you mean by good?"

She looked at his tight grip on her arm and he let go, frustrated with himself. Shifting her pack on her shoulder, she glared at him. "I may invoke desire in men when I wish and some may call me a demon. But in spite of whatever you think I am by no means a desire demon, Fenrehs, or any type of demon for that matter. I offered you something I have never offered anyone and it is your choice and yours alone to make. I won't push you into making such an oath because it has to be made willingly with your whole being." She turned, walking for the door. "Get dressed, Danarius is waiting."

The door slammed behind her, taking with it the fragrance of the rich wooded forest and her spiced vanilla, plunging him back into the stench of his own blood. With the smell gone, so were the calming sensations leaving him. He felt as if she had hit him with one of those rock formations as his thoughts and emotions washed over him, weighed heavily once more on his shoulders. He slouched, staring at the ground, startled. Having the full force of his emotions back was... jarring. And it made him wish that the crazy woman would come back. But he angrily pushed that thought from his mind.

Shaking his head, he turned to the wooden bowl and clothes quickly, wanting to be out of the room as soon as possible. Wanted to be away from what just happened. How could he allow her to manipulate him like that? It made him want to kill her all the more -damn the consequences!

~~~~.~-~.~~~~


	6. Nothing Sacred

\- 6 -

Nothing Sacred

Rain stomped down the hallway, her footfalls audible for once and yet the leather soles were only a light  _thwap thwap_  on the carpet. Muttering curses beneath her breath, she entered the grand dining hall with its crimson walls and earth colored mosaic flooring, and slammed her fists onto the elegant mahogany table, resounding in a boom that rattled the candle holders resting on top.

"Oh!" a servant -one of the few Danarius had brought with him- jumped to her feet, the flint stones she had been using in her failing attempts to relight the dying flames in the fireplace dropped to the floor. "I am sorry. I-I was only trying to-"

Leaning with her hands on the table Rain lifted one hand, waving it in the direction of the fireplace and the elven maiden, and with little effort on her part a fire flared to life. "Leave," she snapped and the younger woman flinched at her harsh tone before swiftly bending over to pick up her flints while giving worried glances. Her face was pale but the color was returning after the initial moment of fright, and her copper-red hair shimmered as she straightened, pausing as if wondering if she should say anything, only to shake her head and started for the hallway Rain had just came from.

Rain sighed, knowing the slave did not deserve her ire and more gently said, "Asuri."

She stopped, turning as she gave Rain all her attention. "Mistress Rain?"

"Take this pack to storage and start gathering Master's possessions." Pushing herself from the table she shifted the pack from her shoulder and handed it to the young servants awaiting hands. "Has his breakfast been served?"

"Yes, not but ten minutes ago. He will be eating at least ten more, but he is getting impatient, Mis-"

Rain nodded. "I understand."

The servant took a step to leave knowing she was being dismissed, only to hesitate and decided to speak her mind. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Rain's gaze went to the fire and slowly she shook her head. For a few heartbeats more the young elf stood there, dull hazel eyes watching her, then slowly left, giving Rain ample time to call her back if need be. But she needed nothing from the slave. No, she could not help her. No one could. She frowned as thoughts, conflicting, confusing, rambled on in her mind.  _Why did I do that?_   _Offered him something so..._ She looked up at the ceiling as she crossed her arms, unwilling to finish that sentence. She needed to collect herself. Something she was not used to doing given she rarely lost control. Why had she proposed to help like that after deciding contrary to it just seconds before? After deciding the gains were too minimal for the risks?

She mulled these questions in her mind, but found the answers murky. On some level she sympathized his position in life, but there were many unfortunate souls out there like him. Many she had run across experiencing exactly what he was facing if not worse. Why would she present him this... salvation? When she offered it to no one else, even when the risks were not going against her cause?

Whatever the reason, it was done. It did her no good to fret about it. She knew better than to get flustered by the rash words that seemed to come out on their own accord. She could not take back what she said. Could not undo the spoken words. No, now it was all up to Fenris how this would play out. Sighing, she allowed her muscles to relax as she dropped her folded arms to her sides. Fenris. Fenris was trouble for her. All those bound by lyrium magick were. She had known this. Even if she had not been told to be wary when handling them, she could feel the connection, the pull, and knew better to be so... free with them. And there was nothing that different about him than the other lyrium branded warriors back in the Imperium. He was not different. He was not special.

So why then had she done it?

Soundless once more, she strolled to the fireplace, trying her best to sort out the chaos of her normally ordered mind. As she leaned against the graceful carved marble she rested her head on her propped up arm watching the orange dancers with skirts of swirling yellow and red, and shoes of blue sway and jump on the blackening wood. Sisters of flame. One of the oldest magick in this world. If she listened to the sighs and whispers of the world around her, these dancing sisters sang the faintest of songs, one that sung of an ancient glow of life. Rain was not endued with these flaming sisters -nor her own sisters of water for that matter- but there were few out there who could speak with and direct such magick. An amazing frightening sight to behold indeed. And, of course, ignorant to this were the minds of Thedas, trapped with narrow sight, blinded by twisted beliefs and ideals, unwilling to look beyond the surface. Maker. Old Gods. And other religions long forgotten had led the people of Thedas down arrogant, self-satisfying paths. But those of the Fade were just as to blame.

The realm of dreams and echoing pasts was not the  _only_  realm or magick out there.

No, Fade magick was only one piece to a larger puzzle. And Rain had used one such magick when giving that offer -that of a truthfully spoken word. This magick did not care that she now regretted making him any offer or that if he agreed to an oath of this magnitude it would do more than simply complicate things for her. This magick only cared that in that one singular moment she had wholly meant and believed what she had said. Giving her dedication forevermore, if he so chose. This magick went with the thought that truth had a certain sound to it. A belief where no matter how much you practiced the spoken word you simply could not obtain that sound of  _truth_. You can definitely get close. Fooling those who failed to listen carefully or who are blind. But once you hear a promise or oath given with a person's whole soul and being... Such a sound could not be unheard or mistaken.

That did not mean truths spoken like this could not turn out to be lies. Truth was not universal for all people. Truth was in the eye of the beholder and if a person believed with their all that what they saw and experienced was the truth and the only truth. Then that someone could unknowingly lie while still speaking their 'truth'. There were no consequences for this. No, the only consequences came was when a person gave their spoken truth, such as an oath or vow, and went back on that. Turning away from this magick was dangerous, and painful. There was a pull to obey a spoken oath once made, and some even went crazy when ignoring that pull.

And if there was one thing she knew it was that her and crazy did not mix well together. She had to keep her word.

Even so. Giving such an offer did not mean her goal was unattainable. It only meant she had more planning to do. Much more planning. Fenris added a degree of uncertainty she had not accounted for. Sighing, she rubbed her forehead on her arm her mind already starting to churn possibilities and outcomes in her head. So many... Too many. She needed a better understanding of him first to narrow down her focus. Him accepting her offer would be telling, more so for the reasons. His dislike and distrust of magick had drifted with time, not as sharp, but it was still there, bubbling beneath the surface like a vat of a potion brewing, steam drifting up before his eyes and tainting his view of the world. Only spending time with him and observing him would give her what she needed, but part of her worried. She had already once slipped with him. While not special there had to be something...

"Time to talk, Rain," a male voice said behind her suddenly.

Rain was caught off guard, a rare moment where she was lost completely in her thoughts not paying heed to her surroundings. She had warnings. The sound of his footsteps. His heavy breathing. But had not taken notice until his spoke and beefy fingers jabbed into her raven hair and painfully yanked her body against his muscular front clad in relaxed trousers and shirt, jerking her head back, forcing her green eyes to meet his furious brown gaze. His hold on her waist, fingers digging inter her hip and in her hair hurt but she did not fight him. Even as his prickly chin and upper lip from day old stubble crushed against her mouth claiming her viciously as his tongue invaded her mouth in a brutal kiss. Having not been ready she did not relax into him as she should have. As he would have wanted, his supposed lover. She realized too late when he pulled his mouth away -then again she doubted it would have altered his frame of mind anyways- as he sneered at her. He moved swiftly, her head slammed into the marble hearth with a resonating crack and light exploded behind her eyes as the force struck and rattled her mind, hardly feeling the floor as he flung her away from him.

She breathed into the floor, not groaning nor moaning a single sound, and if she had been in the right set of mind she would have if only to give him the satisfaction and dissuaded him from further attacking. But she was not ready, had not been -still- her mind should have switched over, given into the role she needed to be in. The hit she had not braced herself for was making it difficult to focus, all she could feel and think about was the swirling lights in her eyes as she stared blankly at the gray colorless tiles that should have been earth-toned, or the cold of the fire on her side and back as it snapped, hungrily consuming the wood only an arm's length away, his foot slammed down on her back and her breath whooshed out from her lungs.

"Where are your lies, Rain? Tired of pretending you love a man like me?" His foot lifted up before promptly slamming back down, not allowing her any air. "You really had me fooled with your tempered rage and vengeful story, of course I wasn't hearing half of what you said as you taunted me with this tempting body of yours." Taking his foot away, he bent, seizing her arm and hoisting her onto her feet, eyes greedily searching her body before he shook his head and backhanding her with his left hand and she fell upon a chair and the table only to slide down to the floor. "We were supposed to overthrow Danarius together, free both of us from serving him as we took his property, his slaves, and his power. Imagine my surprise when Robert came to me, worried about you and this trip, and confided in me about a similar goal only..." He snorted as he kicked her in the solar plexus. "...dressed up differently for someone as pathetic as him. Instead of rage he got haunted lonely eyes along with a pitiful story to match his..."

With another kick, Rain heard more than felt the snap of two ribs breaking. She could feel the pain but such pain was the poke of a sowing needle to her and easily overlooked as she listened to him talk about another man she had seduced. It was the thing she needed to jog her mind, awaken her from her dazed stupor and grasp what was happening and what needed to be done. He kicked her again and this time she added a hiss of air for effect, a sound he smirked at as he continued to talk and kick her. And she waited. Waited for him to tell her how much he knew, who he had told, and if he had told Danarius. She had been a fool letting her guard down -again, she might add!- but she could use this. His rant. He was going to tell her everything she needed to know. With another, more powerful kick she found herself rolling and sliding back into a wall. Of course being beaten to get such information was not her first choice, but it was not the first time she had needed to resort to damaging her body to get what she wanted.

All she had to do was let him in his rage tell her.

.~-~.

Fenris had done as Rain told him to -albeit begrudgingly- cleaning the blood and grime from his legs with the rag and water after taking his trousers off. He couldn't believe the nerve of that woman,  _that witch,_ confusing his mind like that. And what about him falling so easily to her manipulations? Tossing the rag back into the bowl, he paused as the memory flooded his mind. Her body pressed against him as she stood on her very tip-toes, lips so close and the warmth of her breath soft on his own lips. Without comprehending his fingers came up to his lips, lightly touching them, mind imagining what would have happened if she hadn't stopped. Only to shake himself from such disturbing thoughts, jerking his hand away and cursed as he grabbed his new trousers. He was no better off than when he had first met the woman as these conflicting thoughts tangled with uncertainty and frustration kept hold of him.

But at the same time he couldn't ignore the new budding sense of-Well, not hope, but it was a very close cousin to it- and while he did not like her, or the way she could manipulate people (especially him!) he could see how having someone like that on his side would be beneficial. Even before this deal she offered, she had made sure his friends survived and had healed him far better than Danarius had most certainly wanted. Presentable could mean many different things and as far as his Master was concerned if you could fight without being a nuisance you were good enough. Looking over his body now, feeling the stretch and pull of muscles, he could feel that other than the ribs he was almost completely healed. Would she be punished for over-healing him?

He was fastening the string of the new black trousers when a man's angry voice reached him through the door. It was muffled by the thick wood, making it impossible to tell what the man was saying. And at first he tried to ignore it, reaching for his leather and clothe tunic and rubbed the expensive material between his fingers, amazed once more by the quality. As long as the voice wasn't Danarius he didn't care who the man was. He moved, swinging the tunic around and slid one arm through the sleeves when he thought he heard the angry voice say 'Rain'. He held his breath as he strained his ears, trying to hear what else the man was saying or if he could hear her. Was Rain fighting with someone?

But the man simply would not stop talking. And for those brief seconds he took in air it sounded like he was hitting something.  _Or someone._  Fenris gritted his teeth as he slid his other arm into the sleeves, ignoring the minor discomfort in his chest and hastily started to tie the font.  _Why would she be fighting one of Danarius' men?_  Fenris had the impression most if not everyone was under her control or manipulations. About three more tugs from being done, he stopped tightening the tunic, scowling at himself. Why did he care if  _she_ got into some fight? It shouldn't matter. But at the same time he couldn't discount that initial feeling of... concern? It couldn't have been that. The woman had clearly demonstrated she could handle herself. She wasn't weak. She didn't need protection. And why would he even want to give her that?

Cursing, he finished the ties before grabbing the new belt. It wasn't that he wanted to protect her -to be honest he wasn't sure what this feeling was only that his body was tense and his gut was unsettled by the sounds past the door- but with every thumping sound alongside the man ranting, he kept glancing at the door growing more anxious. Sliding the extra end of the belt into the loop, he went for the door and glanced around the dark room with distain briefly before easing the door open. The man's voice grew louder, clearly talking sternly to someone. Fenris checked his right finding more of the hallway, and then left that led out into the dining hall he remembered faintly from the day before. There was a shadow casted on the table, tall and bulky, as the angry man paced before the fire.

Fenris silently inched into the hallway and crept towards the room, listening as the man ranted about another named Jortus. "...all the pieces of your deception fell into place after that,  _my love_ ," he hissed the term of endearment like a curse. "Jortus came to me, as did two others as I waited for Danarius' punishment in my cell and they told similar tales." Fenris halted momentarily, pressing against the hallway wall when the shadow of the angry man stopped, looking off at someone and he tensed further hearing the soft whimpers and tears of who he could only guess was Rain. The man's voice lowered, muttering, "To what end have you gathered such influence?" When she didn't answer, the man stomped over and his shadow stretched long across the far wall as he picked up another and pinned them against the wall by the neck. "You could kill Danarius now if you took the right measures. Why aren't you?"

Having reached the end of the hallway, Fenris froze, letting what he heard settle over him.  _She can kill Danarius?_   _What about the blood curse?_  But then this man would know of her connection to the Magister wouldn't he? He was one of Danarius' men, a guard more likely.  _Why does he believe she can kill him?_

"Tell me mal'dixit!" the man snapped, and Fenris looked beyond the corner just as the massive man punch Rain in the stomach, she coughed, spitting up blood on the man's brown shirt and it dripped down her chin to the mosaic floor below.

Her face was red on one side, the outlines of fingers there while her eyes were puffy, tears streaming down her cheeks and mixing with the blood on her chin. But it was her eyes, bright green eyes that on the surface told of fear and confusion but beneath hid a kindling spark of rage. At first he missed that spark, so small and hidden as it was, but he had seen true emotion in her eyes for a split second back when healing him, the memory so strong and vivid that he could see through the fake emotions -no matter how well done- and he shivered.  _Why is she allowing him to beat her?_ More than this question, though, he wanted to know the answer to the man's questions.

But she remained silent, lower lip quivering with mock fear as her finger nails dug into his arm. The bulky man sighed, his other hand came up to her face, fingers caressing her cheek. "You are very good. I will give you that. If I had not seen the proof of your treachery for myself I would give into those pitiful eyes. Such a shame..." His hand trailed down her front, feeling her curves, grasping her breast as he leaned in. "I enjoyed this body of yours, I will miss ravaging it." Fenris felt ill watching him manhandle her, his big hand slipping under her red shirt, pawing her roughly to the point that he would leave bruises on her honey colored flesh. "Perhaps I will take you. You think you can pretend one more time?" He snorted. "Does not matter, I'll take it whether you do or don't, like I always have."

As the man's lips crushed over hers, she moved to hit him but he let go of her neck, grabbing both of her arms and pinning them to the wall as he kept her legs from kicking with body. Fenris stepped from the hallway into the room furious with rage glinting in his forest green eyes and white markings surging blue, his fists closed and shaking beside him. He didn't know why Rain wasn't fighting back more than her feeble attempts. Perhaps her magick had been used up? Only the Maker knew how much she had used recently, fighting, and then healing him. But he wasn't going to stand there and watch while this man raped her. Before he could take another step towards the man and plunge his hand through his back and rip out his heart, however, the man roared in pain, throwing Rain and she smacked against the wall, landing on her side next to the marble fireplace.

"Bitch!" he cried, the word slurred as he turned to face her, blood dripping from his mouth. "You nearly bit my tongue off."

Having pushed herself up into a sitting position, Rain smiled, dark and sinister with their joint blood in her mouth coating her teeth and lips. She rose without a hint of discomfort, the meek woman from before replaced with a vicious demonic one, her voice low as she spoke, "Pity it was not something lower." Her gaze glanced down at his offending member in question.

The man stepped back -Fenris couldn't blame him- as the change in her seemed to slap him across the face. She stood, relaxed, her green eyes roaring with a fury neither could comprehend. Realizing himself, the man stiffened, refusing to look any weaker and sneered at the insult. "Forget Jortus' plan, I'll kill you." His hand went for a hidden knife concealed at his waist, the blade glinted in the firelight.

He lunged thrusting his knife at her, she dodged and caught his wrist using his forward momentum against him as she twisted his arm, turned and threw him down to the ground next to her. Spitting her mouth free from the blood -joining it to the red smudges Fenris could see on the tiled floor- she wiped her lips as she glared at the man. "Oh, Hastian... here I thought you might be a real threat." She walked next to him and he groaned, moving to prop himself up on his elbows before reaching for his knife that had fallen down beside him. She casually placed her leathered heel on his hand as his fingers curled around the handle and he gasped as she grinded those fingers between the handle and floor. "Only to find that you have become a lap dog for another. I should have known better, we all know there is not an ounce of brains in that thick skull of yours, but someone had to be you owner commanding the leash." There was a few loud snaps as the bones in his hand broke and he cried out from the pain, trying to yank his hand way. "I must thank you for giving me your owner's name. Jortus, who knew the sickly bastard had it in him?" Bringing her right hand up, the scent of the Fade grew as a ball of fire kindled, hovering on her hand, flickering up and licking the air.

Hastian looked over his shoulder at her, eyes wide. "Y-You can't kill me, Danarius will-"

"Will not care about you, and not even blink if I dispatch you. I believe it goes with the reason why you have not told him. I suspect he thinks you treacherous after killing poor Robert, right?" The color drained from his face, mouth opening, unable to form words. "Oh, Hastian. You told me yourself that you slit his throat in a bout of rage and that someone managed to talk Danarius out of your own death. If I tell him you were going to betray him and thus rid him of a pestilence like you he would merely congratulate me."

Growing serious, Hastian managed to pull his hand away and held it to him as he turned to his back, glaring up at her. "Yes, that all might be true, but, if I die or disappear before we get home Jortus will step forward with his proof."

"And what, Hastian, would that be?" she pushed him, and he opened his mouth as if to say only to shake his head and close his mouth, scowling at her as he recognized that he had said to much. She shrugged. "Hn, right. I highly doubt that given he was not your first line of defense. Jortus as you say has a plan and you have messed up that plan by revealing that he is another player in this game. He is not going to be thrilled to know  _I know_ , now is he, Hastian?" Once more the color left his face, but he didn't stop glaring at her. She gave a small chuckle, letting her arm fall to her side and the fire extinguish as the magick left her. "You are an insignificant coward. Go, and stay out of my way the rest of the trip."

Fenris watched as the man's gaze darkened enraged to be dismissed like this, so casually, but said nothing as he awkwardly got to his feet and cradled his broken hand to his chest. Glaring at her, he took a few steps towards Fenris before noticing the captured slave was even there as his brown gaze met green ones. Fenris refused to move out of his way and the man opened his mouth as if to yell at him only to catch the look of distain on the elf's face, and the lyrium branded into his skin that glowed faintly, deciding not to say anything, the man walked around him cursing under his breath as he left the room. For more than a minute Fenris gazed over his shoulder, listening as the footsteps disappeared and thinking about what he witnessed. He clenched his fists more, knuckles turning white. Furious didn't come close to describe how he felt. Why would Rain allow that man to do this? Almost  _rape_  her! He shifted his eyes and opening his mouth, about to ask if she was blighted insane when he found her curious gaze on him.

Shifting, he closed his mouth, feeling uncomfortable under her scrutiny. His cheeks flushed somewhat as her look made  _him_  feel as if he should be embarrassed, though why trying to save her from that man would warrant embarrassment was beyond him. She walked slowly to the table, keeping it between them as she pulled out a chair and let the legs grind against the tile. She sat down, lounging as she toyed with the carved wood of the chair's arm, not once looking away from him. It was then he noticed the blood trailing down the left side of her face as he tried to hold his anger, staring back at her and yet not into her eyes. The crimson life sustaining liquid was trailing down her hairline on the side of her face that had been hidden from his angle. He had though the blood on her chin only from her mouth...

"Sit," she said, her voice light, unrevealing of her thoughts.

He glanced at the table and a chair across from hers but did not follow her command. She didn't speak to command him further so he remained standing, while she merely stared at him. For several minutes he let the silence persist before his irritation and frustration won out. "You let him beat you."

"Yes."

"Why?" His brow creased as he tried to figure out the strange woman before him. "Why when you could have..." his voice trailed off, searching for the word.

"Tortured the information out of him?" He frowned at the term she used, but he couldn't deny that it was the right one. That small smile returned her gaze still boring into him. "I find information is more truthful when people do not realize they are giving it, and anything he did was nothing in comparison to what I have had done to me before. But he does not matter, I know you heard  _it_  and I know you are dying to know why."

Uneasy, he looked down at the floor at his feet. Yes, he wanted to know why she had not killed Danarius yet if she could, but he had a more nagging issue on his mind. "Why did you dismiss him like that? That man... he is only going to attack you again."

Her brow rose, looking to be truly surprised by his question, then amusement softened her features, flashing him teeth as her lips tugged up more. "You caught that, huh?" She waved a hand at him in dismissal of the concern. "Do not let it concern you. I have a plan that will take care of him without me bloodying my hands." She sat up and leaned forward, propping her arms on the table as her face grew serious, all the amusement leaving, her features becoming cold and distant, harsh even.  _As beautiful as a thorny rose._ "No matter what happens, Fenrehs, know that I know what I am doing and I do not want you to interfere. While... gallant of you, I did not need you trying to save me today and I could have learned far more if you had not moved to stop him."

His mouth fell open on its own accord as he uncrossed his arms, and before he could stop himself said in disbelief, "You... you were willing to let him r-rape you?" The initial surprise turned into rage, unable to imagine why anyone would allow something so... so... awful and his face darkened, disgusted.

Frowning, she turned her head to look at the fire. "We both know I could have killed him easily enough... even without magick. I find myself more curious that you thought I needed help." He noticed how she didn't answer his question as her gaze flicked to his briefly before returning to snapping and crackling flames.

"But rape?" he grumbled out, his voice low and rumbling. "Do you have no honor?"

Fenris noticed her tense but remained silent for lingering seconds that dragged on far too long for his liking. Leaning back in the chair, she brought her hand to the side of her forehead and pulled her hand away to look at the blood on her fingertips "I am amazed. For an ex-slave who had no choice you... hold a rather strict view of honor."

His tongue clicked, hitting the roof of his mouth as he audibly showed his distain as he sneered. "Choice. You said yourself I had no choice. Has it happened before me? Had it happened to me? Of course, we are objects that the Magisters will use as they please. But never would I go out of my way to allow  _that_ to happen."

Body already shaking with pent up rage, he stiffened further when he felt her summon magick and a faint green light shimmered over her sitting form, healing all the wounds she had just received. Her eyes were closed, head bent slightly as she concentrated. With only the snapping and popping of the fire to answer his boiling thoughts, he wanted to yell at her, wanted to walk over and... and... And do what? Shaking her or voicing his disgust would not change what had happened and whatever was to come. Relaxing somewhat, he crossed his arms. No, if anything this shrewd woman was absorbing his reaction and it was working against him somehow. As another minute passed, he turned away and walked to the fireplace, making sure to keep her in his peripheral vision.

With fading magick her eyes opened and she finally answered him, "Choice. Yes, it always comes back to that does it not?" She stood from the table and moved to the other side of the fireplace, looking at the dancing flames. "Nothing is sacred to me that cannot be used to obtain my goals, Fenrehs, including myself."

His gaze shifted sideways to her, taking her in as she stood there emotionless once more. But that wasn't what made him shifter with unease. It was the look in her eyes as the fire reflected in them mirroring what she tried so hard to hide. The devotion. The burning passion he saw, it rattled him as he realized she truly believed what she said. Whatever her goal was, this woman was going to move heaven and earth to accomplish it, and nothing was for keeps. In the end, if her own death was required she would willing sacrifice all for it. Such a passion reminded him suddenly of someone he wished he could forget. Hawke. How many times had he seen such a passion burning in her eyes as she faced odds stacked heavily against her?

And yet it wasn't the same. Hawke was many things. Brave, stubborn... to name a couple, but even she never set out on a task purposely knowing she was going to have to sacrifice everything including herself. Hawke fought for those around her but she also fought for herself, her goal always having been survival. This woman standing next to him... She wasn't fighting for herself but something she deemed greater. Greater than him and those she used as pawns. His mind went back to the other nagging question that the guard had brought up. If she could kill Danarius now, why wasn't she?

_What is she fighting for?_

Before he could ask, though, Danarius voice seethed through the estates making him flinch as he looked away from Rain and to the hallway. Their Master's patients had run out, Fenris' time was up.

.~-~.

Seven shadows fell in a line before the estate that had been tucked on the edges of Hightown. The Dulour estates with its rich architect likened to Antivian adobes, stained glass and red slated roof amazingly blended in with the rest of the buildings. Unique though it was, it was only one such unique building in a sea of splendor in this part of Hightown where the elite had a lot more sway in what they could build or alter to their homes and if not for the circumstances the estate would have been overlooked by all of them. Hawke stood in the middle, Anders to her right, Sebastian to her left with Aveline, Merrill, Isabela, and Varric filling out on both sides. All there, staring up at the estates. All with a sense of foreboding as the afternoon sun tried to chase away the chill from the storm.

"Are we sure this is the place?" Aveline asked, turning to look at Varric next to her. "Last thing I need is a headache if we barge in on an elite family and disturb their peace."

Varric's fingers tapped on Bianca's grip as she rested on his shoulder. "The boy who overheard that Sarain woman talking to another orphan girl said she was staying in this section of Hightown. All my contacts have said all of the owners but the Dulours have been seen within the last few days."

The red-head huffed, "But even I have heard that they went on vacation to Antivia." Sebastian glanced at Hawke worriedly, seeing her shift anxiously and dark circles under her hooded eyes from lack of sleep.

The dwarf chuckled. "Then cheer-up. If we have the wrong place then no one will be home to know the wiser." Hawke stopped moving and noticing Varric added, "Not that we have the wrong place. I would bet my fuzzy chest hair we found them."

"Then let's stop wasting time here gabbing," the Champion snapped harshly, stepping forward towards the giant doors.

"Wait, Leana." Anders followed after her. "Would it not be best to enter through a side door or something? Or at least split up and-"

"No. She knows we are here, there is no point." He flinched at her tone, pausing briefly in his pace but continued. The others shared concerned looks before walking after them.

Reaching the huge doors she grunted as she went to yank them open, uncaring of the loud grinding noise as the hinges swung with resistance. With them ajar she took a few steps and froze, breath caught and her heart leaping into her throat as the others filed into the greeting room behind her. Thoughts pondering why she had stopped, they were startled when they found a set of two smaller doors open to a grand hall beyond, lit by a fire and occupied by a dark form sitting the wrong way in a chair with their hunched back to the doors as they watched the fire. All knew swiftly who it was as his white hair seemed to glow with the light of the fire in the dim room, his long sword resting against his shoulder as his hand loosely held the hilt and the tip dug into the dark wood of the floor, other arm propped up against the back of the chair.

"F-Fenris?" her voice cracked.

"You shouldn't have come, Hawke." His voice was low, gritty, echoing off the tall walls and chilling the blood in her veins.

Behind the group the huge doors slammed shut and the four wooden planks fell down into their slots, locking the door, making everyone jump and Merrill squeal with fright. Isabela had grabbed onto Sebastian at the sound, and the Chantry Brother shook her off as she murmured sarcastically, "So much for an easy exit."

~~~~.~-~.~~~~


End file.
